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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174143">How To Design Your Own Prosthesis And Turn The Project Into A Bonding Experience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw_Kraai/pseuds/Jackdaw_Kraai'>Jackdaw_Kraai</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Civil Wars, Whistleblower Tactics, Schematic Drafting, And The Finer Points Of Sith Adoption: The Essential How-To Guide For The Engineering Jedi [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>#PrayforPiett, (AND STILL NO ONE TELLS HIM), (No one you care about), (again I tried), (homebrew), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As Are The Skywalkers, Badass Engineering, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, CHECK THOSE, Canon Is A Poltergeist In The Attic And I Am About To Drop The Sickest Exorcism You Ever Did Hear, Character Death, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Crack Treated Seriously, Dad Vader, Darth Vader Redemption, Deification of Character(s), Don't copy to another site, Engineer Luke Skywalker, Engineering, Expanded Mythology, Fake Military Practices, Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description of Murder, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, He Might Be Catching A Clue Though, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Limbs, Luke Lars - Freeform, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Darth Vader, Protective Darth Vader, Protective Lady's Crew, Protective Luke Skywalker, Protective Troopers, Sabotage, Slave Religions, Slave Songs, Somewhat Oblivious Luke Skywalker, Starring Everyone's Favorite Dynamic Duo, Tatooine Folklore (Star Wars), Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), The Force Is Stranger Than You Could Ever Expect, Unconventional Families, alias - Freeform, and, father-son bonding, slow burn redemption</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:01:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>210,093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw_Kraai/pseuds/Jackdaw_Kraai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>We rejoin our favorite Engineer three days after our adventure on Imperial Center, caught up on the backlog of work and ready to continue his crusade to improve the tech aboard the Lady one piece at a time.</p><p>A dire accident puts a halt to that plan, and before the dust has even settled, Luke is rushed to medical under dire circumstances, Darth Vader is besides himself with worry, and Firmus Piett never asked for any of this. Unfortunately, the later two will have to make quick work of the investigation, as shadowy entities creep closer with dark designs, revealing that the accident may not have been that accidental. </p><p>Sabotage, treason, and mystery. A deadly cocktail that will have bodies hitting the floor as the search for the traitors tears through the Lady like a witchhunt. No one commits treason aboard the Lady and gets away with it, and with the young engineer injured, the crew finally shows their true colors. </p><p>All the while Luke has to recover from this tragedy, and learn to live without that which cannot be replaced. But Vader is there for him, and through all the pain and grief, something may yet grow from this as bonds grow stronger and deeper.</p><p>And in the background, something ancient stirs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clone Troopers &amp; Anakin Skywalker l Darth Vader, Clone Troopers &amp; Luke Skywalker, Droids &amp; Luke Skywalker, Firmus Piett &amp; Darth Vader, Firmus Piett &amp; Luke Skywalker, Firmus Piett &amp; Maximilian Veers, Luke Skywalker &amp; Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker &amp; Maximilian Veers, Luke Skywalker &amp; The Lady's Crew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Civil Wars, Whistleblower Tactics, Schematic Drafting, And The Finer Points Of Sith Adoption: The Essential How-To Guide For The Engineering Jedi [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2724</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Life Will Come At You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><i></i><br/><b>Ladies, Gents, Non-binary Friends, it's here!</b><br/>Before we begin, allow me to inform you all of a couple of things that pertain to your reading experience. <b>This is for your own safety and mental health, so please heed these warnings.</b></p><p>Due to the nature of the subjects handled in this fic, there is, unfortunately, a lot of content that has the potential to trigger you and ruin the experience. There are general warnings in the tags, which I expect you to have read, but in order to be safe <b>I will be providing additional warnings at the start of every chapter that contains potentially triggering content.</b> </p><p>This will not be a complete list, as I don't know what will set off every person, but all the general tags such as "body horror" and "murder" will be provided, as well as the the more specific details of said occurrences so that you can make an informed decision to read on or refrain from doing so. <b>Please read these warnings if you have triggers or are easily disturbed.</b> This fic will <i>earn</i> it's M rating, and not in the fun, sexy way. </p><p>With that out of the way, allow me to issue a genuinely <i>tremendous</i> thank you to my betas! The Amazing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters">@loosingletters</a>, The Incredible <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticNeutral18/pseuds/ChaoticNeutral18">@ChaoticNeutral18</a>, and The Magnificent <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_is_THORapy/pseuds/Writing_is_THORapy">@Writing_Is_THORapy</a>! These fantastic people were willing to put up with my bullshit for <i>over 200K</i> so please, give their profiles a visit, they're all incredible writers, and you're bound to find something that interests you. You can also find all their respective tumblr blogs <a href="https://jasontoddiefor.tumblr.com/">here,</a> <a href="https://youngcreativenerdgoddess.tumblr.com/">here,</a> and <a href="https://newdougsblog.tumblr.com/">here!</a> They're all at least as funny and charming as I am, so you'll have a brilliant time!</p><p>And without further ado, let's dive right in!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A horrific plot unfolds itself, and nothing will ever be the same.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aboard the Star Dreadnought the Executor, better known to her crew as <em>The Lady,</em> it was currently six-hundred and fifty-nine hours Imperial Standard Time. And deep within her many twisting corridors, in a room a few levels above the main hangar, a young man named Luke Skywalker from the Lars family was turning himself over in his sleep one last time, muttering softly. Then—</p><p>Beep.</p><p>Seven-hundred hours IST. Time to begin the day shift.</p><p>Blearily blinking open his eyes, Luke groaned as he attempted to track the irritating alarm back to its source.</p><p>Beep. Beep. <em>Beep.</em></p><p>‘Yeah, yeah,’ he grumbled sleepily as he rubbed the sleepsand from his eyes. ‘I’m awake, I’m up.’ Searching his immediate surroundings with squinted eyes, he found his datapad cheerfully blaring away on his nightstand. Hitting the mute button with an irritated jab at the screen, Luke yawned deeply as he stretched himself out.</p><p>Rolling out of bed and pulling the sheets off with him, he heaved the whole load of laundry over to his closet, where he dumped it into the built-in clothes scrubber (with a very misleading name. As far as Luke knew, the thing was programmed with over five <em>thousand</em> different cleaning routines, for everything from towels, to bedsheets, to even shoes.) and set the whole thing to “deep clean and dry”. It’d be long finished by the time he came back from his shift.</p><p>Pulling a fresh set of uniform overalls out of the closet, he made his way to the fresher. One sonic shower later he was pulling a brush through his bird-nest hair while he attempted to zip up the overalls . Stepping out of the fresher looking much more presentable and awake, Luke gathered up his usual gear. Datapad, comm link, code cylinders, and his standard issue knife that he stashed, sheath and all, in its usual place: his boot. Pulling his hand through his hair and double-checking whether or not he had everything one last time, he headed to the door and hit the control panel.</p><p>Walking down the familiar hallways of the Engineering Corps Officers’ living quarters and offices, he was greeted by many familiar faces as some of his Officers who would join him in the day shift began to make their way to the mess hall as well. Breakfast was first on the to-do list; work could wait until after.</p><p>‘Mornin’, sir,’ Gearbox managed to get out around a jaw-cracking yawn, his interlocking triple gear tattoo standing out sharply on his neck. ‘We continuing work on the ATR-6’s today, or do you have something else lined up?’</p><p>‘Nah,’ Luke responded, stretching his arms far above his head. ‘We’re all caught up with the backlog from last week, so we should be clear to continue on schedule. Unless something else shows up to ruin everyone’s day, of course.’</p><p>It was true too. Three days after returning from his week-long trip to Imperial Center and all that’d happened, they were already fully back on schedule, a large part of which could likely be attributed to the fact that Erribas had kept the Lady running as smooth as ever in his absence. Probably smoother, given that Luke could admit he had a tendency to shake things up whenever he got an idea.</p><p>A notion that was only reinforced when Gearbox snorted. ‘You mean, like you finding another piece of tech that you just <em>have</em> to overhaul, sir?’ he asked, hand firmly ruffling Luke's hair as the clone was fond of doing.</p><p>Luke squeaked and hastily ducked out from under the man’s hand. ‘Ack! Gearbox!’ he scolded, trying to flatten his hair back down into something that looked a little less like a bedhead. His indignant squawk only earned him a bark of laughter from the clone though. ‘Really?’ he complained, giving the chortling man an annoyed look. ‘This early in the morning? I just brushed it!’</p><p>‘Bah,’ Gearbox waved off irreverently. ‘You hardly see the difference, sir. And really, a crewcut would help with that, you know,’ he said, eyes twinkling with mirth. ‘It <em>is</em> standard Trooper regulation, after all.’</p><p>Luke rolled his eyes, finally succeeding in shoving the man off of him. ‘And like I’ve said a hundred times already, I’ll follow the damn regs when they finally start making sense,’ he grumbled, ‘Lay off with the haircut jabs.’</p><p>Gearbox shot him a crooked grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. ‘Sir, yes, sir,’ he agreed easily, the deferential tone sharply offset by the sheer mischief and glee in his grin. A deep voice cut in before he could make any comment on it, however.</p><p>‘I see you’re looking to get your sixth write up of insubordination, Gearbox?’</p><p>They both turned to look at the source of the sound, and sure enough, a rather irritable looking Erribas was making their way towards them.</p><p>Gearbox scoffed at the accusation. ‘Ah, lay off, Lyvon. It’s all in good fun and you know damn well it’d never stick.’</p><p>Erribas narrowed their eyes at the irreverent clone and crossed their arms. ‘From me? Maybe not. But from Lars?’ They raised an eyebrow at the man. ‘Are you sure you want to chance that one?’</p><p>Luke groaned under his breath as he stepped between the two bickering men. ‘Knock it off, you two,’ he said, looking at both of them in turn. ‘No one is getting written up for insubordination until we’ve had our breakfast, and I’m not about to stand around in this hallway waiting for you two to reach that conclusion yourself. Now then,’ He clapped his hands sharply and gestured towards the awaiting elevator station. ‘To the elevators, both of you. It’s too damn early for this without some kind of caffeine or sugar.’</p><p>Gearbox snapped off a sharp salute and grinned widely. ‘Yes, <em>sir! </em>Now there’s an order I can get behind!’</p><p>Luke turned his gaze to Erribas, who was looking distinctly peeved at somehow finding themselves agreeing with Gearbox. They pursed their lips and nodded sharply. ‘Yes, sir. You’re probably right on it being too early to deal with Gearbox un-caffeinated in any case.’</p><p>Ignoring the indignant “Hey!” from Gearbox, Luke smiled at the two men and repeated his gesture towards the elevators, catching several of his other Officers observing the scene from the corner of his eye. ‘That goes for you all too,’ he called out to them, and he caught at least three of them hastily attempting to look busy. ‘All of you, to the mess hall, show’s over!’</p><p>The hallways rapidly emptied out after that, the rest of his Corps’ Officers hurrying towards the elevator station. Shaking his head fondly, he headed up after Gearbox and Erribas, who had already resumed their bickering, even if it was now accompanied by movement towards the general direction of the elevators. Brushing past them and leaving them to their argument, Luke headed towards the station.</p><p>The Troopers manning the station perked up as he approached, snapping off a salute each. Saluting back, he was happy to recognize Stitch and Reesan, who he promptly greeted by name.</p><p>‘Good to see you too, sir,’ Stitch said as he nodded back.</p><p>‘Where to this time?’ Reesan asked as she tapped on the screen. ‘The mess hall or the Officers’ lounge?’</p><p>Luke raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that really a question you need to ask?’</p><p>‘Good point,’ she admitted with a snicker. ‘Mess hall it is!’ She quickly tapped in the destination and the computer spat out a string of numbers with a cheery ding. ‘Right,’ she said, scanning the numbers quickly. ‘Fifth personnel lift, on your left, sir.’ She straightened back up and snapped off another salute. ‘Have a nice day, sir!’</p><p>‘You too, Reesan,’ he said with a nod, before a thought occurred to him. ‘Oh, and if you two could do me a favor?’</p><p>Stitch and Reesan glanced at each other and nodded with a shrug. ‘Sure, what do you need, sir?’</p><p>‘Gearbox and Erribas are at it again,’ he explained with a quick eyeroll, an explanation that had the two Troopers snickering softly. ‘They’ll probably still be at it when they get here.’</p><p>‘Probably,’ Stitch agreed with a tilt of his head.</p><p>Luke grinned wide at the Trooper. ‘Exactly, so do me a favor and just send them down directly? They’ll miss breakfast if they have to pause long enough to give you a destination.’</p><p>Stitch couldn’t seem to help himself as he devolved into stifled shakes of laughter, while Reesan hardly seemed to be doing any better. ‘We’ll send them down in a timely manner, sir,’ she assured him, amusement thick in her voice. ‘You can count on us.’</p><p>‘Knew I could,’ he agreed, beaming at the two Troopers as he began to make his way to the designated elevator. ‘Have a nice day, you two!’</p><p>‘You too, sir!’ they chorused after him.</p><p>Walking past the heavy-duty elevators and into the one designated—now with a bit of a spring in his step—Luke couldn’t help but smile as he went through his to-do list of the day. With the backlog of work worked through, Luke and his Corps were once again busy with the usual hustle and bustle that came with the upkeep of the Lady and the more extensive projects he’d put on their schedule.</p><p>The ATR-6 assault shuttles were only one of the equipment classes that needed to be modified, with the AT-AT and AT-ST walkers being a close second. He also needed to get a good look at some of the scout vessels and bombers currently in drydock, seeing as he’d learned the hard way to put anything that came out of the Sienar Fleet Systems factories under immediate probation.</p><p>Something which, surprisingly, many of the Death Squadron Pilots agreed with, and those that hadn’t had quickly shut their traps after they’d learned that Vader had okayed the drydocking of some of their precious ships for Luke to inspect. After that it was merely a matter of getting around to doing them, and now that the backlog was cleared, he finally had the time. The Interdictors were first on the list to be put under scrutiny, after that he could get started on the rest.</p><p>Humming happily as the elevator doors opened with a ding, Luke stepped out into the thrumming crowds of the elevator station just outside of the mess hall.</p><p>One of the fifty mess halls aboard, it was designed to comfortably seat up to forty-eight <em>thousand</em> people at once, and worked around the clock to feed the day and night shifts that circulated through it throughout the day. And with more than a million people aboard, it was nearly always bustling with some sort of activity.</p><p>Considering it was the assigned mess hall for Luke and his Corps, a lot of that activity consisted of ravenous Engineers looking either to bolt something down and get on with business, whatever that business may be, or to have a good time with the rest of their fellows. All in all, Luke found it a great, if somewhat loud and overwhelming, place to be.</p><p>As the Head Engineer, he technically didn’t even need to eat at the mess hall. If he wanted to, he could eat his meals in the Officers’ lounge, a far quieter and more luxurious affair reserved for the upper tiers of the brass (something to which Luke still sometimes had trouble believing he belonged to) where you could eat a meal in what he was told was a far more “restaurant-like” setting than the cantina everyone else ate in. And to be fair, Luke had sometimes eaten there when he just needed some peace and quiet, or when he had a couple of things to discuss with Captain Piett or General Veers, for example.</p><p>But most of the time? He grinned as he saw some of the people in today’s shift barrel past him, laughing and horsing around like children less than half their age as they filed into the massive dining complex, shouting their greetings as some of them recognized him. Most of the time he preferred to eat here, with his people, laughing and joking right alongside them.</p><p>Slipping into one of the lines leading into the mess, Luke allowed the movement of the crowd to push him into the vaulted cavern that counted as a mess hall. A cacophony of sound echoed throughout the hall as Crewmates milled about, looking for places to sit at one of the many large tables, balconies suspended around the massive supporting pillars, and bars as they balanced their trays of food, chatting with their friends. It was a sight that Luke could best describe as “controlled chaos,” something many of the Officers despaired of whenever they deigned to enter, but that was nearly impossible to stop from happening due to the sheer scale of the place.</p><p>Going with the flow of the crowd, he let it push him towards the back of the hall, where the massive kitchen constantly turned out food to keep all the Crewmates and Troopers fed. He’d just picked up a tray when he heard the sound of someone calling out his name cut through the din.</p><p>‘Hey! Hey, that’s Engineer Lars! Sir!’</p><p>Turning around to face the noise, he was immediately met with a group of Troopers rushing up to greet him. Grinning faces of all manner of ages and origins looked down at him as they gather around, some familiar, some new. Beaming back at them, he noted that there was more than one clone amongst them, and immediately he knew what to do.</p><p><em>‘Jate’urcye,’</em> <a id="back1" name="back1"></a><a href="#note1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> he greeted with a smile, tipping his head at them and receiving a chorus of greeting in Mando’a back, even from those who were not clones. ‘Now then, what’s all the fuss about? And can we discuss it while I get some food?’ he asked, eyeing the people casting their little group annoyed looks as they had to veer far out of the way to circle around to the kitchen. ‘We’re causing something of an obstruction.’</p><p>The Troopers seemed to startle as they looked around them, and Luke bit back a laugh as they sheepishly filled into two lines next to him, allowing people to pass by once more.</p><p>‘Sorry, sir,’ one of the Troopers, a man with light hair and freckled skin, whom he recognized as Walt, muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I guess we got a little too excited.’</p><p>Luke laughed softly and shook his head. ‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ he waved of as he began to move into the kitchen’s direction once more, the Troopers moving along with him as they each grabbed a tray from the dispensary. ‘But what’s all the excitement about? Can’t just be me, so what’s the fuss?’</p><p>‘Well,’ another Trooper, a clone with a standard crew cut and a large scar over the bridge of his nose drawled, ‘It’s sort of about you, sir. Or rather, what you did.’</p><p>Luke blinked at the other man, trying to recall anything he might’ve done out of ordinary these last few days and drawing a blank. So instead he chose to go with an issue he could address right away. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met yet, Mr.…?’ he trailed off meaningfully.</p><p>The clone snorted and gave him a chiding look. ‘It’s Ms. actually, sir. The name’s Rocko. I may look a little rough around the edges,’ he— <em>she</em> said as she gestured to her scar with a knowing grin, ‘—but I’m as much a woman as anyone.’</p><p>‘Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Rocko,’ he said with a beaming smile, before letting it turn apologetic. ‘And I’m sorry about mistaking you for a man.’</p><p>‘Bah,’ Rocko said as she waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s hardly an insult to be mistaken for one of my brothers. Just don’t do it again, sir.’</p><p>Well, that was easy enough. ‘Of course,’ he agreed easily. ‘Now what was it you said about it not being me, but what I did?’</p><p>‘Well,’ she said, a smirk crossing her face. ‘It’s been trickling down the grapevine that you had something of a run in with one Admiral Asshole. According to some of the pencil pushers, he’s been seething about it nonstop for the last few days, and your 2IC had <em>a couple of things</em> to say about it as well.’</p><p>Luke groaned as he plonked down his tray on the kitchen rails, pushing it along. Three days. Three days is how long it had taken before that incident had leaked out far enough that he was now being accosted by a squad of Troopers looking for details. Honestly, he’d almost forgotten about it, but now that he remembered he knew that it’d been too much to ask for it to stay on the down-low.</p><p>‘So it <em>is</em> true?’ yet another Trooper with tawny skin and dark eyes—Orchi—asked as if he’d read Luke's thoughts. ‘You really told the Admiral off?’</p><p>Luke shot the man a dark look as he placed a bowl of steaming porridge on his tray, alongside two packs of dried fruit and a tiny container of honey. ‘First of all, I didn’t tell the Admiral off, thank you very much. <em>He</em> challenged <em>me,</em> and I just responded as was appropriate. Second of all, I wished him a very nice day afterwards, so if he’s still angry about it, that’s his problem,’ he told the lot of them primly, channeling as much of Captain Piett's demeanor into those words as possible.</p><p>The Troopers laughed as they loaded up their own trays with food, and Luke thanked one of the cooks—Kieron—with a nod and a smile as he slipped Luke an extra muffin packet with a wink and quick shushing gesture. After picking up a plate of spiced and roasted vegetables and sausage—heavy on the peppers—a few hot bread rolls on the side, and a flask of herbal tea to wash it all down with, Luke began to weave his way back through crowds, the squad of Troopers hot on his heels with their own trays in hand as they wheedled and cajoled him for more details.</p><p>Rolling his eyes in a manner that was definitely ruined by the smile on his face, Luke caved in and gave them the bare-bones rundown of his confrontation with Ozzel, something that seemed to disappoint the Troopers with how little there actually was to it.</p><p>Setting down his tray at a still mostly-empty table standing in the shadow of one of the massive balconies suspended overhead, he chuckled lightly as Walt turned two huge eyes on him. ‘I told you guys,’ he said as he sat down and began spreading some of the veggies and sausage on one of his bread rolls. ‘There isn’t much to it. Ozzel nearly bowled me over, insulted me for a bit, and I told him that he was wrong about me. That’s pretty much the whole thing.’</p><p>‘That’s not how Engineer Lyvon tells it,’ Orchi protested. ‘According to him, you almost made Ozzel piss himself when you decided to retaliate. Said he stumbled back, wide-eyed and everything.’</p><p>‘Yeah, well,’ Luke mumbled as he took a bite of his roll. ‘Apfaran’y ‘e ‘oesn ‘ike i’ ‘hen ‘eof’e figh’ ‘ack.’</p><p>Rocko blinked at him and shook her head. ‘Gonna have to repeat that, sir.’</p><p>Luke swallowed the bite and gave her a look. ‘I said: apparently he doesn’t like it when people fight back.’ He sniffed indignantly. ‘As if I was <em>ever</em> just going to stand there and let him insult me.’ He took another bite of the roll, trying to avoid the significant looks the Troopers were giving him.</p><p>‘So you <em>did</em> fight back?’ Walt asked pointedly.</p><p>Luke paused in taking another bite and sighed. ‘Yes, fine, I did. It wasn’t more than three words though, and <em>no,</em> I didn’t <em>swear</em> at the Admiral,’ he stated firmly. ‘I just told him to watch me do it anyway in response to him telling me that I'd never amount to anything.’ He finished that statement with a pointed bite, hoping they would get the message and at least let him have some of his breakfast in peace without having to talk about someone as unpleasant as the Admiral. Honestly, where that man got his attitude, Luke didn’t even want to know.</p><p>A message that Rocko thankfully seemed to hear loud and clear as she smoothly switched topics to something else. ‘Alright, alright,’ she said easily with a grin. ‘I getcha. But I doubt that’s all you have to say,’ she wheedled. ‘C’mon, sir, you were dirtside for a whole week and if the scuttlebutt’s got it right, you’ve gotten up to all sorts of things down there.’</p><p>Oh great. He groaned around his mouthful of food though he felt a small spark of amusement well up inside of him. Swallowing it down, he gave Rocko a narrow look. ‘You’re not going to leave me be until I talk, are you?’ he asked, knowing the answer already.</p><p>‘Nope!’ she said cheerfully, before giving him a calculating look. ‘Of course, you could still order us to.’</p><p>Ohhhh <em>no.</em> They were <em>not</em> doing that. ‘I’d rather you drop the subject out of respect for my breakfast and my empty stomach,’ he shot back, raising an eyebrow. ‘Regardless of what you seem to think, Rocko, I’m not about to make petty orders over petty things.’</p><p>‘Then how about this, sir?’ she returned, unperturbed and with a satisfied air. ‘You tell us a story, and we’ll tell you one. Fair’s fair, and this way we all get our time to eat.’</p><p>Good enough for him. ‘Deal,’ he agreed with a nod. Stuffing the last of his roll in his mouth, he dumped the two packets of dried fruit into the bowl of porridge and began spooning the honey from its little container into the bowl too. ‘Now then,’ he began as he swallowed his mouthful, stirring in the honey. ‘What is it you want to know?’</p><p>The Troopers quickly began making their requests for clarification on various rumors, eager to get the tale of the hunt from the anooba itself instead of the herd’s mouth, so to speak. Luke found himself recounting his talk with the emperor and his own account of the various events he had a strong suspicion were being spread by his former security detail. Ah well, nothing to do about that.</p><p>The Troopers hung onto his every word as he described the emperor’s sanctum, a place few had apparently ever seen, and gave them the watered-down version of his and the emperor’s conversation. Between describing the black marble hallways and turning down the emperor’s job offer, the Troopers ate their own breakfasts, various sandwiches, eggs, sweet pastries, meats, and fruits decimated at rates only those who did hungry work could achieve. Taking the occasional spoonful of his own porridge, Luke finally worked his way through all the Troopers’ requested stories.</p><p>‘—And after that we called it a day,’ Luke said as he finished recounting the gala to the enraptured Troopers. ‘The next day we wrapped up and before we knew it, we were back on our way to the Lady. And that’s really all that happened. Or well,’ he amended as he recalled a few other things. ‘All that I’m going to tell you lot. The rest is either private or classified.’</p><p>‘Aw, <em>sir,’ </em>Walt whined, but before he could say anything else, he was swiftly elbowed in the gut by Rocko, who was shooting the poor guy a death glare that Luke was certain would give even an enraged rancor pause. Suitably cowed, Walt shrunk back and mimed zipping his mouth shut.</p><p>Satisfied, she nodded and turned her gaze back to Luke with a dazzling smile like she hadn’t just bullied a fellow Trooper into submission with practiced ease. Luke could only look on with amusement at their antics when Walt breathed out a visible sigh of relief. ‘So,’ Rocko said, stilling smiling wide, ‘I guess it’s our turn to give you the one-oh-one on what happened around here last week, huh?’</p><p>Matching her smile, he gave her a mock salute with a spoonful of porridge but didn’t say another word as he began eating the rest of his own breakfast. Message received, Rocko wasted no time in regaling him with the tale of how the 237<sup>th</sup> Company had apparently managed to accidentally blow up their own moonshine distillery (something that Luke, as an Officer, probably shouldn’t know or be told about, but they all knew that the day he would rat them out was never) because of a blocked valve and the overzealous efforts of the shiny tasked with heating up the distillery.</p><p>They had apparently unanimously been voted to be given the name Molotov.</p><p>Stifling his laughter in his food, Luke silently wished the unfortunate Trooper good luck with their new name. He doubted their comrades would ever let them forget where it had come from.</p><p>The rest of breakfast passed quickly, with Rocko making a grand show of divulging the latest gossip and tidbits from the Trooper barracks, occasionally aided by her fellows, while Luke made short work of his food. Stuffing the last of his muffin in his mouth while Rocko finished telling him about the latest batch of shinies they’d picked up from the dirtside barracks, Luke began collecting the trash on his tray for disposal.</p><p>Orchi smiled as he handed Luke his own empty yogurt cup. ‘Time to get going then, sir?’</p><p>Luke stuffed the empty cup with a couple of his wrappers as he nodded. ‘Busy day ahead,’ he told the man. ‘The ATR-6s are on the schedule today, and with a bit of luck, we’ll have heat shields playing nice with the heat sinks before the night shift clocks in. After that it’ll be a cinch to reduce the heat signature, at least for a little while.’</p><p>‘So no more missile lock-ons?’ Walt asked hopefully as he handed Luke an empty plate.</p><p>‘That’s the goal,’ he agreed cheerfully, smiling as Walt’s face lit up. ‘But we won’t know how close we are until we actually get testing. And even then, there’s no guarantee of success.’</p><p>‘Bah,’ Rocko waved off. ‘You’ll find a way, sir. Whether it takes you a day or a year, you’ll succeed. I know you will.’</p><p>That— was an oddly confident statement. ‘You sound rather sure of that, given the fact that I just said there’s a very real chance of failure,’ he noted mildly, raising an eyebrow when Rocko snorted inelegantly.</p><p>‘Sir,’ she said, voice flat and tone indicating that the reason was obvious, ‘you’re a <em>Goran</em> <a id="back2" name="back2"></a><a href="#note2"><sup>[2]</sup></a>. Not to mention that when you find a challenge, you tend to bite into it and not let go until it yields.’ She handed him an empty glass. ‘And that’s not even touching on how this hardly seems outside the scope of your abilities.’</p><p>And well, Luke knew that bit, but it was nice to have a vote of confidence nonetheless, even if he really wasn’t sure how successful this attempt would be. But Rocko did have a point, it wasn’t like he was going to give up even if it did end up a failure. The stakes were too high to simply walk away.</p><p>So instead of arguing or otherwise refuting Rocko’s points, he simply smiled and dipped his head in gratitude. ‘Then I’d better prove you right.’ He grinned lightly. ‘After all, it wouldn’t do to let down such confidence, now would it?’</p><p>She laughed brightly. ‘That it wouldn’t, sir. Now off with you,’ she said, making a shooing motion. ‘You can count on us to clean up the rest.’</p><p>Shooting her a mock-salute with an empty glass, he bid the other Troopers a quick goodbye as he went to dispose of the accumulated trash and dirty dishware piled high on his tray. Ducking and weaving through the throngs of people, Luke nearly didn’t catch it when he almost crashed into a very familiar bickering pair.</p><p>‘I’m telling you— oh, hey, sir,’ Gearbox said as an aside before turning back to a highly annoyed Erribas. ‘Look, I’m telling you, I don’t care if that’s how the Empire does it, a can of grease and roll of tape got me through ninety percent of the whole damn war and they’ll get me through the next—’</p><p>‘And <em>I</em> keep telling you,’ Erribas interrupted as they jabbed a finger at Gearbox. ‘That if you want something to last longer than lunchtime, you’ll use your proper tools which were given to you <em>for a reason.</em>’</p><p>Gearbox waved off the accusation with a rude sound. ‘Reason, schmeason. Like the brass ever knows what it’s talking about. Now, <em>duct tape.</em> Duct tape never fails—’</p><p>‘Unless it has to be used near any kind of heat source like a spacecraft engine—’ Erribas contested hotly.</p><p>Gearbox’s eyes shot wide open as he bared his teeth. <em>‘Heresy!’</em></p><p><em>‘It’s good to see you two as well,’</em> Luke said loudly, drawing the attention of the two Engineers back to himself, only slightly sheepish but mostly unrepentant as Luke raised an eyebrow at them. ‘I take it I can count on the two of you to report for duty at a somewhat reasonable time, or should I just sign the both of you out as a precautionary?’</p><p>‘Sure, sure,’ Gearbox agreed irreverently. ‘We’ll be there, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’ Then he turned back to Erribas with a mutinous expression on his face. ‘Now listen here, you wet-behind-the-ears snotnosed <em>di’kut.</em> <a id="back3" name="back3"></a><a href="#note3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> You disrespect duct tape to my face again—'</p><p>Tuning out the rest of the conversation, Luke ducked around the two Engineers as they resumed their bickering on whether or not duct tape was an appropriate deity of worship and left the two of them to their argument. At least they’d made it down to the mess hall in one piece. He’d have to thank Reesan and Stitch the next time he saw them.</p><p>Dumping off the trash into the appropriate receptacles and setting his tray onto the conveyor belt for the dishwasher, Luke followed the throngs of people streaming out of the mess hall, greeting people here and there as he made his way out of the giant chamber that never seemed to be absent of the thrum of life. He supposed the saying was true then: an army really did march on its stomach.</p><p>Shaking his head as he grinned at the thought, the wove his way through the jam-packed hallways to the nearest elevator station, which was utterly swarmed with people from both shifts switching out. Thank the Desert for Officer priority lines during rush hour.</p><p>Squeezing carefully past the several dozens of Crewmates and Troopers waiting their turn to give their destination to those on elevator detail, he headed for the much smaller line of the Officers’ desk. With the five or so Officers before him quickly cycled through, he bid a short hello to Shard and Lilly before asking them to send him down to the main hangar, mindful of the line that had already started forming behind him.</p><p>Directed towards the twenty-seventh personnel elevator on the right, he shot both Troopers a bright smile and a quick thank you before getting out of line to let them deal with the next Officer.</p><p>The elevator station, much like the rail station above it, was a constant bustle of activity, but never more so than during rush hour. Half the Lady’s crew seemed to migrate from one end to the other every time it happened, and Luke was forever grateful that his standard commute only needed to take him through the elevator station instead of the rail station. At least the morning part, anyway.</p><p>Stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to let the system know its passenger had arrived, Luke once again sorted through his to-do list as the doors in front of him slid shut. In order to make the ATR-6s more stealth capable, they had to be able to sufficiently disappear out of the sights of an infrared targeting computer. And in order to do <em>that,</em> something would have to be done about the ships’ heat signatures. The heat shielding for the ATR-6s was the first step in that process—shielding that would allow for the Pilot to temporarily direct all heat inwards, into newly installed heatsinks. “Temporarily” being the key word in that sentence, but as short-range troop transports, it might be all they would need.</p><p>He tapped his arm as he considered the plans he’d made for the process. The prototype shields would have to be installed today for their first test, so he’d have to start work on the first prototype of the heat muffler, for lack of a better word, as early as he could.</p><p>A prototype exhaust cover that would be able to be temporarily slot into place to dramatically reduce the ship’s exhaust plume. If he could pull it off, there would hardly be a computer that he knew of that would be able to target the ships, and the Troopers they carried could hardly ask for a safer place to be asides from the Lady herself. If he was successful, it would save many lives.</p><p>If.</p><p>He breathed in deeply as the elevator came to a halt and dinged brightly to let him know he had arrived. Walking out, he resolved to put those doubts aside. He’d hardly even started on the project, and he had the whole of the Engineering Corps to back him up. He could do this.</p><p>And if he couldn’t, he could likely still come very damn close and work from there.</p><p>The main hangar of the Lady was already alive and echoing with the sounds of various whirling and shrieking machines, cutting, welding, and grinding the durasteel needed for all manner of things. His Corps’ Engineers milling about, carting materials between storage and ship, hanging from the sides of massive hulls as friction stir welders cast them in a molten glow, and generally going about their tasks in a manner that had Luke swell with fondness and pride as he looked at them.</p><p>These were his people, and by the Desert and all Her Moons, he couldn’t have been prouder of the fact that they let him lead them if he tried. Even if he did still fuck up now and then.</p><p>Huffing softly to himself at the memory of the latest of such instances, Luke walked along the sides of the cavernous space and headed for his workshop. He had work to do, and lots of it.</p><p>Coming to a stop before the heavy double blast doors that marked the entrance to his workshop, he fished out his code cylinder and inserted it into the control panel with practiced ease. With a hum and a sigh of pneumatic mechanisms, the doors slid open, and stepping into the workshop, Luke watched as the surrounding machinery woke up out of sleep mode.</p><p>Half-finished schematics flickered into view on their holodisplays, slowly rotating in a manner that easily allowed Luke to see where the most drastic work was still needed, while their unfinished prototype counterparts lay strewn about the various workbenches.</p><p>Bypassing all of them, Luke headed for the schematic still displayed on the holoprojector linked to the drafting station. The heat muffler (he really needed to come up with a better name) spun slowly while illuminated in bright electric blue. Functionally, the schematic was finished, at least until he made an actual prototype out of it and the glaring flaws inevitably revealed themselves.</p><p>Knowing there wasn’t much he could do about it, Luke sighed and opened up the files for the muffler, preparing them to be transferred over to the 3D printer. He arranged the separate pieces into a printing mold and, after running everything through manufacturing analysis one last time to check for any structural flaws, Luke sent the whole business over to the 3D printing room.</p><p>Shoving off from the drafting station, Luke couldn’t help walking with a little spring in his step as he made his way over to the small open elevator that would take him to his printing room on the second level of his workshop. Stepping into the printing room, Luke slipped on his protective gear, fitting his respirator over his face as he adjusted his gloves.</p><p>Stretching languidly, he ambled over to the printer and pulled out the monitor to check the durasteel powder supply. Tapping through the various menus, Luke opened up the printing files he’d sent over and checked them against the system data.</p><p>After verifying everything and selecting the proper settings, he reached for the power switch and— hesitated.</p><p>Something was off.</p><p>Furrowing his brow, Luke tried to pinpoint the uneasy feeling that was gnawing at the back of his mind, something that set the hairs of his neck on end. It grated and ground up against that part of him that spilled over into something else, like storms eroding the mighty red stone cliffs of Kashmi Ridge.</p><p>Something was very, <em>very</em> off.</p><p>Pulling his hand away from the power switch, Luke decided to heed the uneasy feeling and run a system diagnostic before he did anything else. Just to be safe.</p><p>Swinging the monitor back out, he pulled up the settings menu again and ordered the printer to run an internal scan for problems. Tapping his fingers against the monitor frame as the progress bar slowly crept across the screen, he turned the odd feeling over in his head again and again, trying to make sense of it, but like sand, it slipped through his fingers every time he grasped for it.</p><p>Blowing out a frustrated breath, Luke made an annoyed sound as the diagnostic finished up and displayed the all-clear on screen. Whatever it was, it didn’t have anything to do with the internal workings of the machine.</p><p>So why did he have the gut feeling he usually had just before a Flight went bad or a Sandstorm hit? It didn’t make any sense.</p><p>Shaking his head and making another agitated sound as the odd feeling kept evading closer scrutiny, Luke closed out the menu and flipped on the power switch.</p><p>The printer began to run through its warmup sequence, and watching the array calibrate, Luke fidgeted with his sleeves as the feeling of unease grew stronger and stronger.</p><p>The recoder assembly had just finished distributing the first layer of powder when something loudly hissed inside the printer box, the shifting sands raising into a howling wind that <em>shrieked</em> in warning, his whole head pounding with something that screamed and screeched of <em>dangerdangernownow<strong>now</strong>—</em></p><p>Reacting on pure instinct, Luke reached out for the emergency kill switch, needing everything to <em>stop</em> <em>right now— </em></p><p>Too late.</p><p>Something flashed out of the corner of his eye, laser bright, his mind registering a loud, concussive noise, as agony <em>seared</em> through the right side of his body. Everything was fire and screaming and pain and agony and <em>pain</em> as the world flashed bright behind his eyelids, bright enough to hurt even as the world was nothing but <em>fire </em>and<em> Suns, make it stop, make it stop, make it <strong>stop—</strong></em></p><p>It was a blessing when the darkness came up to swallow him whole.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note1" name="note1"></a>[1] <em>Jate’urcye:</em> Mando’a for “Well met.” Literally “Good/Lucky to meet you.” Not an official phrase, but rather one I extrapolated from existing words to suit my needs. <sup><a href="#back1">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
<li>
<a id="note2" name="note2"></a>[2] <em>Goran: </em>a Mando’a word that mean blacksmith, armor smith, or armorer. There rests significant weight behind that word, and the vod’e didn’t assign it to Luke lightly. <sup><a href="#back2">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
<li>
<a id="note3" name="note3"></a>[3] <em>Di’kut:</em> a Mando’a insult close in severity to “idiot,” “useless,” or “waste of space,” translated literally it means “person who forgets to put their pants on” <sup><a href="#back3">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*evil grin* Well then. Do I have your attention?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Not With An Open Hand, But With A Fist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the horrific events of last chapter, we find ourselves with our favorite Sith Lord facing the tragic fallout. A mad rush to the scene, a discovery that will change lives forever, and a small miracle that is as inexplicable as it is needed. </p><p>Even the darkest night can bring the sweetest dreams.</p><p>Merry Christmas, loves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merry Christmas to one and all! </p><p>Unless you're a part of the majority of the world who thinks all us people just go particularly nutty around this time of the year, in which case Merry Random Update Day! I hope you have a great one!</p><p>So yes, as it turns out, I couldn't be that mean to make you all wait the full week, and instead, you get this one just a tad early, with another on Sunday as well, of course ;) Who says I can't be generous?</p><p>However, with the festivities out of the way, let me give you the trigger tags for the day:</p><ol>
  <li><b>Graphic descriptions of Pain</b></li>
<li><b>Graphic descriptions of severe burn wounds</b></li>
<li><b>Graphic descriptions of loss of limb</b></li>
</ol><p>Please, dears, be careful with your mental health, okay? And of course, <i>enjoy.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the Supreme Commander of the Star Dreadnought known informally as the Lady, and indeed, of the whole of the Imperial Armed Forces, there was little that happened aboard the ship without Darth Vader knowing of it.</p><p>However, as much as he despised the fact, that didn’t always mean he understood the <em>how</em> or <em>why</em> of the matter. For example, did he know that a not-insignificant portion of his Officers would commit an act of egregious incompetence sometime in the too-near future to the detriment of his sanity? Yes.<br/>
Did he know the how and why of when it would happen, or what could possibly motivate the half-wits into the undoubtedly wasteful and senseless loss of resources, both physical and mental? If he did, he would already have one less problem, and hopefully one more competent Officer in their stead.</p><p>Though admittedly, over the last half year, the latter part of that statement had come to occur increasingly through demotions and dismissals instead of his usual, more permanent methods. Much to the relief and confusion of the crew, though they tried to hide such sentiments from him with varying degrees of success. It hardly mattered if they succeeded or not, however. All aboard the Lady knew the reasons for his change in behavior, and Vader himself was no exception.</p><p>Luke Lars.</p><p>A mystery who, no matter how Vader attempted to turn the situation over in his head for better analysis, he just couldn’t seem to make sense of. The child was contrary to everything that he had come to expect and understand from life, cheerfully and carelessly flouting the norms he had come to see as ironclad rules of reality. A small star in the Force, and yet, one whose gravity well bent and distorted all around it until they were left standing in a world where it somehow made sense for said star to willingly, happily, come bounding up to greet him with all the exuberance and openness of a child.</p><p>It had left him floundering in a manner most embarrassing the first couple of times it had happened, but in his defense, no one had ever treated Vader as a welcome sight to see outside of an active battlefield, and even then, said excitement was dubious at best. It simply didn’t make <em>sense</em> for anyone to be delighted to see him. Not when his presence inevitably heralded the coming of suffering and death to all.</p><p>All but Luke.</p><p>No matter what, the child seemed determined to stick with Vader like it was his Force-ordained duty and nothing thus far had been able to dissuade him from the erroneous assessment that Vader was someone to be— to be <em>affectionate</em> to, or someone to trust as a confidant. None of his usual methodologies or admittedly frigid countenance had been enough to scare the child off, and regardless of how little Vader even bothered to augment his usual behavior around Luke, the child always radiated joy and warmth upon seeing him just the same. It was… odd. Confounding. A mystery.</p><p>Welcome.</p><p>That last part had, in all honesty, taken him some time to admit, even to himself. And when he did, he had admittedly acted on the realization in a manner most unbefitting to a Sith Lord: with panic.</p><p>Shifting imperceptibly, the burning under his skin flared in symphony with his growing embarrassment as he recalled the memory of his reaction, eating away at his insides. Instinctively, he checked his shields to ensure no emotions leaked through. They had a nasty habit of slipping whenever he was in any kind of proximity to the child, whether it be physical or mental, so he had developed the tedious, but highly useful reflex of strengthening his shields whenever he so much as shifted in his emotional state. Unfortunately, that didn’t prevent him from <em>experiencing</em> the emotions in the first place, and as time wore on, he found that he didn’t necessarily <em>want</em> to prevent the experience.</p><p>Which was a terrifying revelation in and of itself.</p><p>It spoke of the sheer extent to which Luke had managed to squeeze himself through the chinks in his armor when he realized his reaction to said revelation was <em>not</em> to immediately slam down all his shields and attempt to distance himself from the child. Instead, he had begun the horrifically mortifying and uncomfortable ordeal of— of allowing Luke to approach him further.</p><p>Of trying to keep as few obstacles in the child’s path as possible.</p><p>Of trying to not flinch when he felt Luke's Force presence press up against his own, warm and content and joyful.</p><p>Of attempting not to panic with every new realization of just how far the child had already managed to weave himself into his life in just a few, short months.</p><p>Of trying not to lash out in blind <em>fear</em> and hurt the child in the process whenever that realization hit just a little too close to his core.</p><p>“Try” being the unfortunate and shamefully weak keyword in those sentences. Sometimes… sometimes he didn’t succeed, and the sheer vulnerability of his position sent his instincts screaming until his whole body was stiff with tension and pain. The usually simmering heat just under his skin that made sure he never quite forgot the fires of Mustafar would heighten to a rolling boil, an inescapable fire locked inside his suit that would rip and tear at what little scar tissue that still passed for skin. Burning. Blackening. Feeding into the Dark and the Dark into it until nothing but a vicious cycle remained that tore and ripped and <em>rent</em> his very being until everything but his raw and bleeding insides were slashed away, leaving him twitching in silent, burning <em>pain </em>that kept him a mere two seconds away from lashing out in all-consuming agony, a furious beast trapped in a prison of its own making with no escape left—</p><p>And the <em>pain.</em></p><p>It hurt, and burned, and tore, and <em>rent.</em> This roiling, screaming darkness, that rung through his head like a never-ending siren, and it <em>would not stop, </em>until— until—</p><p>Until Luke .</p><p>Until a soft, piercing chime of concern in the Force would break through the impenetrable darkness like a pinprick of starlight in a howling night. Until the burning black fires of Mustafar dimmed into a soft, familiar warmth. Until a gentle, young voice full of worry would say “Milord?” in the same way the Troopers spoke a nickname.</p><p>Until suddenly he felt like he could <em>breathe</em> again despite the suit never allowing him to stop.</p><p>And there would be Luke, shining softly in the Force like a small star, concern, care, and compassion sparking off of him in a gentle patter that mimicked the tapping of rain against his Force signature in a way it never again would against his skin. None of which he deserved, and yet, none of which he was able to resist.</p><p>It was pathetic how much further he could still fall, leeching warmth off of another like a common mynock would off of a ship. And yet he couldn’t stay away, and Luke seemed disinclined to take matters into his own hands and chase him off in turn. He would, in fact, welcome him into whatever space he was occupying at the moment, and most baffling of all, seek Vader out when he felt it necessary, the definition of which apparently included the mere desire to talk or exist in one another’s presence.</p><p>Baffling, confounding, <em>impossible</em> child.</p><p>It echoed of something he had for so long thought lost to him forever. Something that he had foolishly decided to act on with that gift he had given Luke.</p><p>An act that would’ve given the child the right to cut all ties with him the moment he saw it, and yet, on a whim he could hardly explain as anything other than Force-induced madness running amok (whispering sands, and half-forgotten heat of twin suns. Folly and sentiment.), he had gifted Luke a living plant.</p><p>A decision that had begun eating him alive from the inside-out the moment he had committed to going through with it, but that was hardly an unfamiliar sensation. He had gifted Luke a living plant, and while he couldn’t have thought of a more appropriate gift for the child if he tried, he had nearly felt himself burn alive in the Force waiting for the inevitable reaction. The inevitable <em>rejection.</em></p><p>But it hadn’t been rejected.</p><p><em>He</em> hadn’t been rejected.</p><p>Instead, Luke had greeted him just as brightly as ever the next time their paths had crossed, his Force signature humming with the same contentment and warmth that Vader had come to associate with the child. And he’d thanked Vader for the gift.</p><p>That, more than anything, sparked a small flicker of the most terrifying emotion within him; hope.</p><p>It had occurred to him too late that Luke was unaware of Vader's own history with the abominable speck of dust orbiting two Suns, and the culture which had spawned upon it. But when Luke had excitedly begun babbling on about the Nubian culture surrounding the gift, his courage had deserted him, and he had contented himself with the fact that his gift had been received with the intended level of excitement, if not the desired message. Even so, the reminder of Naboo had cut deeper than anticipated when he had decided on that little piece of— that little piece of <em>her.</em></p><p>Sighing shallowly so that his vocoder wouldn’t pick up on the sound, Vader turned his attention back towards the report that was given to him by Captain Piett. Neither of them were exactly enthused by the activity, but it was a tedious necessity of keeping a ship such as the Lady in peak form, and at the very least he would be able to collect the report on the mechanical section from Luke himself.</p><p>‘And our patrol schedule, Captain?’ he interrupted the monotonous statement being made stating the current amount of supplies aboard. ‘How far along are we to correcting the delay caused by our rerouting?’</p><p>Three days since they had left Imperial Center, and he had driven the Lady as fast as she could sustainably go. Officially it was to recover the ground they had lost in their impromptu week of shore leave. In reality; to put as much distance between him and his Master as feasibly possible.</p><p>Though if Piett suspected anything about his true motives, he was wise enough not to let it show when he answered. ‘We have made a steady recovery in our delay, my Lord,’ came the prompt answer as the man seamlessly switched between report sections. ‘I would say that within another two days we will have caught up with the schedule of our originally projected route.’</p><p>The best news he had received in a while that did not concern armor or ships. ‘Excellent work, Captain,’ he said with the barest dip of his head, a gesture that sparked a distinct sense of satisfaction within the man’s Force presence, one of the calmest aboard the whole Lady, even when in his direct proximity. ‘Ensure the target is met; we have lost enough time already.’</p><p>‘Yes, my Lord,’ Piett answered promptly, before something abruptly soured within the man’s presence.</p><p>‘Is something the matter, Captain Piett?’ he asked as lightly as the vocoder would allow, which nonetheless was still only on the softer end of a rumble, likely still indistinguishable to anyone who wasn’t Luke.</p><p>Piett hesitated for barely a moment before he spoke once more in a carefully measured tone. ‘I’m afraid the Admiral has been something of a hinderance, my Lord,’ he admitted evenly, though the Force betrayed his flaring irritation with the man. ‘He is quite insistent that we return to our last known position along the original patrol route and attempt to catch up from there.’</p><p>Of all the inane and dimwitted— ‘He is aware,’ he growled lowly, ‘That doing so would add on an extra two weeks to our patrol schedule with no chance of recovering lost time?’ Not to mention throw a significant spanner in his plans to remove him, Luke, and the whole of the Lady from his Master’s presence as soon and far as possible. The Dark itched under his skin at the thought, sinking its fangs in as it burned him, sapping him of his strength.</p><p>Piett gave him a flat look that spoke measures. ‘He believes that our absence in the original marked sectors will spark a revolt the likes of which will start a rebellion, my Lord.’ Then he seemed to reconsider his own words with a slight tilt of his head. ‘Or that was the most I could extrapolate from his statements, I’m afraid they were rather incoherent towards the end.’</p><p>Growling in annoyance, Vader didn’t even bother to acknowledge Piett's flinch at the sound. Ozzel. These days it seemed like any irritation brought to his attention held half a chance to concern Ozzel. Whatever had possessed the person who had seen it fit to promote the man through the ranks, he would never understand. Especially since it meant <em>he</em> was now saddled with the obnoxious incompetent. Damn his Master for favoring pedigree over practicality or even common sense.</p><p>The Force hissed eagerly around him, writhing in thick, languid coils of savagery that reacted to his irritation with renewed waves of burning pain that settled just under his skin, a sensation he knew would not leave him until he found some form of catharsis, whether it be ridding himself of the source of his irritation or by other means. Unfortunately, Ozzel was currently neither in range nor giving him an airtight reason to be rid of him just yet, as in accordance to his agreement with Luke, so he forcibly tamped down on the pain with practiced efficiency and did his best to ignore the growing sirens going off in what remained of his nervous system.</p><p>He’d have to see if he could visit Luke later and hope the child’s infectious joy and peaceful Force signature would soothe the worst of the pain.</p><p>Having regained marginal control over his traitorous body, Vader huffed a sharp sound into the vocoder and glanced sideways at Piett once more, who he noted was watching him with all the wariness of prey ready to bolt. Wise man. Another reason to keep him as an ally.</p><p>‘Do not concern yourself with the Admiral, Captain,’ he ordered lowly, knowing it would carry his intent well. ‘Stay the course, guide the Lady back to her patrol route, and should Admiral Ozzel wish to register any complaints, direct him to me and ignore any further attempts made by him.’ He turned his full gaze upon the Captain and the Force shivered around the man with a sliver of discomfort. ‘You have my full permission to bypass his authority in this matter. Do you understand?’</p><p>Piett nodded promptly and kept his signature blank expression even as he radiated an uneasy elation. ‘Yes, my Lord. I understand.’</p><p>‘Good,’ he rumbled. ‘I—’</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Pain.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>The sensation screeched through the Force like a siren, ringing through his mind and turning his blood to ice once it registered that it wasn’t his own. Someone, somewhere on the Lady, was in terrible pain.</p><p>
  <em>Pain. Screaming. Fire. Panic. <strong>Pain.</strong></em>
</p><p>It roared through the tentative bond that had been establishing itself over the last few months like a wild beast, and though it was barely more than a few gossamer filaments stretching across the length of the Lady, they were currently blindingly bright with nothing less than sheer <em>agony</em> that nearly stopped his heart cold.</p><p>
  <em>Luke.</em>
</p><p>The moment that thought took hold in his mind, the sheer nova of pain and panic dropped out of existence until a mere whisper remained, dimmed down to something dull and unresponsive. The small dot of light that marked out the sole warm presence within this ship flickering like a candle-flame in the wind.</p><p>Scrambling to grasp the fading threads of the tenuous bond stretching between him and Luke, he tried sending pulse after pulse of frantic worry through the bond with a strength that even someone with minimal Force-sensitivity would be able to feel <em>loud</em> and clear.</p><p>Worry easily grew into panic when the only response he garnered was a sluggish nudge back, barely a whisper of awareness sparking through before it stilled once more, still flickering with muted pain and shock filtered through a haze of what he assumed to be unconsciousness.</p><p>Something had gone incredibly wrong. Something had <em>hurt</em> Luke.</p><p>Those thoughts raced back and forth through his mind like sound bouncing around an echo chamber, distorting further and further with each deflection until all that was left was a roar of white noise inside his mind as his entire world shifted on its axis until he had only one remaining priority: get to Luke as fast as he could and make him <em>stop hurting.</em></p><p>‘—y Lord?’ Piett's voice filtered back into Vader’s reality as he rapidly pinpointed his own position within the Lady in relation to Luke nearly on autopilot. ‘Is something the—’</p><p>‘I sense a disturbance,’ Vader interrupted flatly, for once grateful for how his vocoder communicated everything he said into a near-monotone. He didn’t bother to wait for Piett's reaction as he spun around on his heel and dashed off with as much haste as he could, his fear whipping the Dark into a frenzy that shook the air until it hummed.</p><p>‘Order a medical team to the workshop,’ he commanded as he began picking up the pace, <em>‘Now!’</em></p><p>Piett's response was cut off as he skidded around the corner of the hall, and he didn’t care to know what it might have been, as long as the man executed his orders with all due diligence.</p><p>He rushed through the hallways of the Lady with as much speed as he could muster, his bones jarring painfully with each thudding step against prostheses not made for any kind of running, his respirator struggling to keep up with his demand for oxygen. He ignored it all and kept an anxious eye on the still stable, but dangerously dim Force presence that marked the single spot of joy within the gargantuan metal skeleton of the Lady. Too much time. It would take him far too much <em>time</em> to reach Luke's location, and his cumbersome body just wouldn’t <em>move</em> like he needed it to!</p><p>The Dark prodded against him sharply with the next jolt of pain and with a snarl he remembered that he didn’t <em>need</em> to adhere to its feeble boundaries.</p><p><em>It</em> adhered to <em>him.</em></p><p>He grasped and pulled the raw, untamed Dark into his battered and failing body, his connection strengthened even further with the furious desperation. A rush of liquid shadow and power suffused him and the machinery that kept him alive, heartbeat held within a metal fortified cage as his blood roared in his veins. Within seconds, the pain was fading into a background haze as he forced his body to sustain speeds that would break lesser men and machines.</p><p>He <em>would not </em>fail here.</p><p>With the Dark pulsing around and through him in a mimicry of a heartbeat, he reoriented everything within him until every fiber of his being was focused on nothing but getting to the faint speck of light that had once been the shining star in the tapestry of the Force. The Force, the Dark, both fueling and driving him ever forward, extending his senses until he could feel every soul aboard, the very metal of the ship, and the vast void around it, all whispering with power.</p><p>Power which he used handily when he came upon the first locked door.</p><p>A flash of anger, a shot of power, and the shrieking of bending metal rung through the air as the door burst outwards in three separate pieces, wiring still sparking.</p><p>The Crewmates in the hallway behind it startled, but he hardly registered them any longer than it took for them to press themselves to the sides of the hall once they recognized him, fear and shock saturating everything as they all competed to make themselves as small and unobtrusive as possible. Good. It would keep them <em>out of his way.</em></p><p>The few unfortunates who didn’t register his approach in a timely manner he threw aside with a well-aimed lash of the Force, flinging them into the walls without a care for what may happen to them. They’d recover.</p><p>He pushed himself to reach ever greater speeds as everything faded into one shrieking mass of agony that he sent out into the Force, the ship, the void, it hardly mattered as long as it bled off the excess so it wouldn’t drown out Luke's signature.</p><p>Tearing another door out of its frame without breaking his stride, he finally came upon the elevator shafts that would bring him down to the level he needed.</p><p>‘Which level?’ one of the Troopers stationed there asked him, their levelheaded tone marking them out as a veteran member of the 501<sup>st</sup>. He ignored them in favor of sending out a pulse of the Force to see which shaft was unoccupied on the way down. It immediately informed him to tear the doors off of the center-right entrance with vicious prejudice. He didn’t have the <em>time</em> to wait for an elevator to take him where he needed to be.</p><p>Not waiting for the jagged pieces of metal to clear the frame, he dashed through the opening and threw himself down the elevator shaft.</p><p>Even the fall seemed far too slow from his perspective as metal and cables rushed past in a blur, his own heightened senses a curse as his position began to level out in relation to Luke's. Sheer reflexes were what allowed him to strike out with sufficient speed when he’d reached the correct level, the durasteel fingertips of his prosthesis digging into the walls of the elevator shaft with shattering force, allowing him to slow down his decent as the metal split into deep gouges with ear-shattering shrieks under the force of his grip.</p><p>White-hot sparks flew around him as the synth leather of his glove shredded into nothing, leaving only the bare durasteel of his prosthesis as he forced the metal in his fingers to keep its shape despite the abuse. He gritted his teeth against a snarl as he made metal, bone, and flesh alike resist warping, breaking, and tearing under the tremendous shock and stress they were subjected to. The connector ports in his arm and support struts in his shoulders yanked dangerously, but kept dutifully in place.</p><p>Another offhand lash of the Force sent the doors just below him flying out of their frame with a bang, the shrieks of twisting metal harmonizing with those of startled Crewmates diving out of the way to avoid the high-velocity metal debris. Paying no mind to the wave of panic and confusion that swept through the lobby in front of him, Vader braced himself against the wall and kicked off with as much force as he could muster, shooting through the newly created opening and into the elevator station with a furious roar of desperation.</p><p>This station was unfortunately far more crowded than the last one, and he snarled with irritation as he dashed through regardless of who or what got in his way. The quick-witted among the crowd hastily dove out of the way once they realized his trajectory. The slower amongst them eventually did the same after a Force blast sent them sprawling like ragdolls.</p><p>Vader paid none of them any mind as he continued his mad dash towards the Head Engineer’s workshop. Luke was still sending out sluggish, pain-filled nudges through the Force as he made clumsy, instinctive attempts at calling for aid and something—</p><p>Something twisted painfully in Vader's chest as another weak call for aid brushed up against the outer boundaries of the howling tempest of his mind. Tearing around the corner of the main passageway towards the hangars, he began pulling as much power as he could into his body for the five kilometer long stretch ahead.</p><p>The wide, arching, and cavernous multilayered highway passage A-4, which connected twenty-five levels bow to stern, was to the Lady what an artery was to a humanoid; vital, and always pounding with beat of life as hundreds of thousands of beings passed through it each and every moment. While normally Vader would welcome this as a sign of the Lady’s usual efficiency, it now only sparked a bone-deep frustration.</p><p>He bellowed out a <em>roar</em> of fury, the sound amplified through his vocoder into something truly inhuman that reverberated through the A-4 and warned all ahead of what was coming and to <em>get out of the way.</em> As Crewmates noticed the raging storm of black armor-weave and glinting durasteel rushing towards them with terrifying speed, a corridor in the sea of bodies occupying the A-4 rapidly opened up in front of Vader.  A part of him rumbled in satisfaction at no longer having to waste the energy to toss any blockades out of his way.</p><p>Fear, shock, panic, confusion, and trace amounts of curiosity permeated the air around Vader as he pushed the Dark onwards, the world beginning to blur together at the edges of his vision as everything but his goal faded out of view. The Dark flared out around him, feeding him all the information his senses could no longer be bothered to register as they focused on the one thing that was important.</p><p>Another brush of the severely weakened Force signature sent him snarling like a beast as he pulled and scraped and clawed at all the Dark he could muster just to give him that slight edge in speed, just that extra bit of momentum that sent him flying down the last few hundred meters of the A-4 at a pace faster than any of the onlookers would be able to track.</p><p>The hallway ended in a branching point, sending the traffic within it to all corners of the Lady, and skidding around the corner, Vader <em>finally</em> saw the grand gate of the main hangar. Fifty meters tall, seventy wide, and operated by eight heavy-duty hydraulics on both sides, they were truly the behemoth guardians of the main hangar.</p><p>They were also blocking the fastest route to Luke.</p><p>Grinding his teeth as the looming gates dawned on him, he braced himself against what he was about to do as he rushed forwards. The Dark hissed under his control as he gathered it close, writhing and boiling under his skin with anticipation. The whole corridor—floor, ceiling, the grand gates—hummed around him, every molecule, every atom, all interwoven with the very Force, all eager to follow his command. <em>Good</em>.</p><p>With steel-toed boots pounding against the floor, he threw himself forward with an earthshattering bellow in his throat as he <em>rammed</em> the gates with a full Force blast. Metal bent, tore, and <em>shattered</em> under the impact like clay, and the grand gates swung open in a way sliding doors were never designed to do, wailing a lament in the structural failure of three-meter-thick solid metal plating as they collapsed in dozens of different pieces.</p><p>The debris of the ruined gate rained down around him as he charged through the carnage. He vaguely registered screaming around him and the Force rung out with the panic and terror of the hangar’s occupants, but he shrugged it all off with an irritated growl. He was so close now, <em>so close.</em></p><p>The hallway to the workshop was only little more than a klick away and desperation grew within him as he felt Luke's nudges slowly weaken with each attempt. His own body cried out in empathetic agony with each flare of pain he felt from across the fledgling bond and he knew he hardly had the time to spare.</p><p>The hangar blurred around him, and sounds registered oddly when they registered at all. Though the world appeared as if it were stuck in a tractor beam, Vader himself felt like he was the only thing that remained moving.</p><p>He barreled down the hallway and towards the double blast doors that marked his so desperately-sought destination. After the things he had just done to get here, yanking them out of their frame with vicious strength was barely an action worth of note.</p><p>Stumbling into the workshop and slowing down for the first time in his mad dash to get here, he immediately swept the Dark through the buzzing, glowing, whirring room that was the main chamber for that illusive head of messy light hair and bright eyes. Disoriented and thoroughly frantic at this point, he poured himself into every gap of the room, soaking into the walls, the air, and producing a sound that was dangerously close to a gasp when he located Luke's signature just a little ways above him on the second floor.</p><p>Clawing his way up there as fast as he could manage, he finally noted the way the world seemed redder and darker than what could reasonably be ascribed to the lenses of his thrice-damned mask. When he distantly registered his HUD warning him of smoke and increased heat, his throat clenched up in fear, further constricting his already burning airways.</p><p>
  <em>No. Not Luke.</em>
</p><p>Flickering light from the corner of his eye only confirmed his worst fears and the sirens in his head grew louder with the mere idea that Luke would’ve been exposed to— <em>that.</em> He turned his way towards what he vaguely recognized as the 3D printer room.</p><p>Tearing open the already slightly warped and creaking door, Vader's heart jumped into his already constricted throat when the distinct dancing light of fire filled his view, only to plummet to the bottom of his stomach when he registered the prone form lying on the ground.</p><p><em>He looks so small,</em> Vader distantly thought. Though his mind struggled to process what it was seeing, his body numbly steering him over to the figure.</p><p>There on the ground, surrounded by a smear of dark, viscous fluid that stuck to Vader's boots as he stepped closer, was Luke. Kneeling down while ignoring the shrieking protest of his body against the movement, Vader lifted a trembling—how, how was it trembling. Machines didn’t <em>tremble</em>—hand towards the child, attempting to gentle the iron grip of durasteel into something resembling a caress.</p><p>Soft, whimpering noises were escaping from Luke's mouth as his whole face was twisted in pain. A fact emphasized with the sheer amount of burns covering the right side of his face, stretching across the bridge of his nose, missing his eye by a hair’s breadth. Dark, cracking the skin where there was any left and—</p><p><em>Not Luke,</em> a pitiful voice repeated in the back of his mind.</p><p>Swallowing uncomfortably against something that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat, Vader turned his gaze away from Luke’s mangled face with great difficulty to inspect the child for any further wounds.</p><p>The pair of overalls he wore were made to be resistant to higher temperatures, but even the specialized fabric hadn’t been able to fully ward off the heat of whatever had happened here. Several holes had been scorched into the fabric, and the skin peeking through had been badly burned, though thankfully, the fabric hadn’t fused with it.</p><p>Desperately clinging to the latter fact, he lowered his gaze to where said fabric was soaked through with a viscous fluid that stained the washed-out black even darker. Past Luke's shoulder, upper arm, elbow, and— and—</p><p>A sound like that of a wounded animal shivered through the air, low and keening, and he wondered what was producing it until he realized his voice box was shuddering under the strain. It hardly registered as he stared at the space where there should have been flesh and bone covered by skin and fabric. Where there should have been more of <em>Luke</em><em>.</em></p><p>Instead there was nothing but a bloody, gaping wound, with only a few dangling threads of seared sinew and muscle still clinging to shattered fragments of blackened bone. That viscous fluid seeped sluggishly onto the floor and there was the hollow thought that the heat of the blast at least seemed to have partially cauterized the wound. The wound that was— that <em>wasn’t</em>— that should have been—</p><p>
  <em>Not Luke</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p><p>He had long since cursed the brutish imprecision of his mechanical limbs in every tongue he knew, despising them for needing every little movement to be guided by the Force, lest they crush whatever he was trying to hold. But now, as the Dark seemed so far away and the brightest star in the sky lay bleeding on the ground, he found that no language could have ever expressed the sheer <em>loathing</em> he felt towards them as he attempted to gather the child into his lap with a gentleness they were never built for. With each whimper that left burnt and ruined lips, he found that he had never before wished so fervently that his design would allow for kindness of comfort rather than the punishment of pain.</p><p>With a tenderness in his movements that could only be afforded to him by the Force, he pulled Luke into his lap, buoying the child’s body with soft pulses of the Dark that would not jostle any injuries he might not see. Burning and black, the Dark should not have tolerated this moment of weakness in him, but even it seemed to croon with worry at each pained whine and did not protest against its paradoxical use.</p><p>Gathering Luke's bleeding and battered body close, a gust of ashen tendrils of darkness allowed his mantle to wrap carefully around the child’s shivering form. It would have to do. It would <em>have to.</em></p><p>At least until aid arrived.</p><p>Aid that <em>should have already been here.</em></p><p>Fire sparked to life somewhere inside him, and the rest of him desperately grabbed onto it with everything it had. Anything to shift focus. (<em>Coward,</em> something inside him hissed, and he couldn’t do anything but agree.)</p><p>He didn’t even bother to try and physically reach for his commlink, both his hands occupied with something far more important than it could ever be, but a jolt of the Force thankfully accomplished much the same. It floated up in front of him, and another jolt immediately contacted the one Officer whom he could likely stand to communicate with at the moment.</p><p>The connection crackled with static for a moment, and then rapidly cleared up as the familiar voice of Captain Piett filtered through. ‘My Lord? What—?’</p><p>‘Where is the medical team, Captain?’ he interrupted brusquely, his patience with the world around him hanging by a single, fraying thread. ‘I distinctly remember ordering one to the workshop and yet there is no one to be seen.’</p><p>A strangled noise made its way across the transmission and he absentmindedly checked to see if his displeasure wasn’t making itself known within the Force. The Captain had yet to fail him and it wouldn’t do to let the Dark run amok on someone who had done nothing yet to deserve it. Especially not one so competent. </p><p>‘My Lord,’ Piett finally worked out. ‘My Lord, are you saying you are <em>at the workshop—!?’</em></p><p>‘Yes,’ he cut in. ‘And I do not see a medical team here, Captain. Where. Are. They?’</p><p>‘I— I—’ Piett uncharacteristically stammered out. ‘My Lord,’ he finally managed, ‘It’s only been <em>eight minutes.'</em> <a id="back4" name="back4"></a><a href="#note4"><sup>[4]</sup></a></p><p>‘Your point being, Captain?’ he growled out. ‘Head Engineer Lars has been severely injured and requires <em>immediate</em> medical assistance. <em>Ensure that it gets here.’</em></p><p>With jab of the Force he cut of the line of communications before he could truly loose his patience. As useful as his rage was to power the Dark Side, there was a great well of pain and suffering situated right in his lap at the moment, and he would <em>not</em> have the Dark feed off of it.</p><p>
  <em>Not. Luke</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p><p>Silence set in, permeated only by the ever-present cycling of his respirator and the pained, pitiful whimpers of a child who never should have known the sensation of fire eating away at his flesh. Who should have never needed to learn to live without a part of himself. Who should have never needed to know how to maintain a prosthetic limb.</p><p>The Dark drew closer around them, and he tensed, bracing himself to ward it off from feeding on Luke in such a weakened state. The child <em>needed</em> his rest and strength to heal and he would <em>not</em> have the Dark take it from him. Muscles tensed as he reached out to the Dark, readying himself to either throw it off or direct it back to his own suffering if necessary, only to find that it flowed around his reach as easily as water, pooling gently around Luke and humming softly with concern and care.</p><p>Staring wide-eyed at the impossibility in front of him, he witnessed through Sight and mind as the Dark slowly wound itself around the injured child like an elderly loth-cat, black tendrils gentle on deep wounds, purring of relief and a painless rest. The child in his lap sighed softly and went limp as both agony and remaining consciousness slipped away into a deep, Force-induced coma, the likes of which too closely mirrored a healing trance to be coincidence.</p><p>Drawing the now fully-unconscious child closer to him, he watched in fascination as the Dark easily followed, wrapping around the both of them in a sensation that was not quite an embrace or a shield, but resembled both close enough that he couldn’t find a better word for them. Black as the void and shot through with the sensation of fire, it seemed a paradox to see this selfsame Dark brush against Luke's dimmed Force presence with such tender care, but here it was.</p><p>Slowly releasing the stored tension in his body, he could only watch in wonder as the Dark—the vicious, fiery, <em>feral</em> Dark—curled around Luke, tame as could be and singing softly of sleep and rest.</p><p><em>Baffling, confounding, </em>impossible<em> child,</em> he echoed quietly to himself, carefully drawing his mantle closer around the child, sensing that his body temperature was dropping fast now that unconsciousness had set in and the results of blood loss were becoming apparent. The armor weave wasn’t especially suited to be used to cover up the sensitive burn wounds or fresh amputation stumps, but with the Dark still inexplicably humming with relief from the pain, he deemed it a worthwhile risk until the medical team arrived.</p><p>The medical team that still hadn’t arrived.</p><p>Growling in frustration, he sent out a pulse of the Force to see what was keeping them when someone so drastically needed their aid. A pulse which turned up near useless when all that echoed back at him from the Lady at large was varying degrees of panic, fear, shock and confusion, which did exactly nothing to help his already-agitated temperament.</p><p>Drawing deeper into the Force, he filtered out the confusion, panic, and shock. The Medics he was looking for would likely be harried, yes, but he knew the medical personal aboard the Lady to be made of a sterner breed than the average Crewmate. They had to be able to manage any injuries acquired by both the 501<sup>st</sup> and Death Squadron and he expected nothing less from them.</p><p>Which left them standing out as a single grain of sanity in a storm of chaos... headed directly their way. Good.</p><p>Carefully drawing on the Dark, near fearful to break the spell it seemed to be under but needing it to gentle the roughness of durasteel arms on a broken body, he lifted Luke on bed of the blackened air, buoying the child until he rested feather-light in Vader's arms, the writhing darkness bafflingly acquiescing.</p><p>His body screamed in pain as he rose to his feet, he ignored it all in favor of tucking Luke securely against his chest, hoping the child was deep enough into unconsciousness that the discomfort of hard plastisteel armor wouldn’t register. With the soft breaths of Luke fogging against his chest plate, he set out to meet the medical team halfway.</p><p>They’d waited long enough.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
  <li>
<a id="note4" name="note4"></a>[4] For all you smart cookies, Vader was 8.6 kilometers removed from the workshop at the time and spent about three minutes fussing over Luke before he got the wits about him to comm Piett, meaning it took him five minutes to get there. Crunch those numbers, and you’ll see <em>exactly</em> why Piett was so out of it. <sup><a href="#back4">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then, here we are. Not to worry, I am not using this as an opportunity to get out of posting a chapter on Sunday! I will be right there, as usual, with another chapter in which we all see our favorite competent Captain again; Piett!</p><p>But until then, I wish you all a most wonderous and brilliant day, and will see you again very soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. It Will Scare You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While Vader tore a path of destruction through the Lady in his quest to locate Luke, a certain someone was left behind to manage the mess. We follow Piett as we witness the fallout through his eyes, and, in a sign that either mean the universe loves or hates him, gets assigned to the investigation of finding out what caused all of this. Which it is, is yet up for debate.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're back!</p><p>Did everyone have a good time this week? Well, even if you didn't, let me try to at least try to cheer you up a little, yeah?</p><p>The trigger list for this chapter:</p><ol>
<li><b>Graphic descriptions of severe burns</b></li>
<li><b>Graphic descriptions of loss of limb</b></li>
</ol><p>Take care, dears, and have a grand old time!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Captain Firmus Piett hurried through the corridors of the Lady, all he could think was that this day had rapidly deteriorated from “strange” to “bad” and was getting worse by the minute. </p><p>Making his way to the ship’s hangars as fast as he could, he occasionally stumbled upon traces of his Commanding Officer’s rampage across the ship. Dazed Crewmates propped up against the wall, nursing fresh bruises and possibly cracked bones. Doors had been ripped out of their frames and lay shattered across the floor in more pieces than five-centimeter thick durasteel had any business being. A conversation between the Troopers manning an elevator station about how the gouges in the solid steel wall looked to be <em>clawed</em> in there. Whispers shared between shaking Crewmates about how his Lordship had torn through the hallways like a storm, roaring and running at inhuman speeds.</p><p>And everywhere there was an air of fear so thick that Piett almost wondered if it was a deliberate manifestation of their Lord’s ire. Which should have sounded ridiculous, but frankly, he could hardly even tell anymore what was reasonable and what was not ever since his superior had taken off <em>running</em> and commed him not eight minutes later from the other side of the ship, demanding to know where the medical team was.</p><p>
  <em>Eight minutes.</em>
</p><p>Those two words kept echoing through his head like a broken record. It had taken Lord Vader no more than <em>eight minutes</em> to traverse the distance from the top command deck to the Head Engineer’s workshop in the hangars. <em>Eight minutes</em> to navigate his way through kilometers of hallways and corridors and drop several levels down. Not even the most efficient routes through the Lady using rush transport and priority elevators would allow someone to make that distance in just<em> eight minutes</em>, and judging by the trail of destruction left in his Lordship’s wake, he hadn’t used any of it.</p><p><em>Which means he ran,</em> a tiny, terrified voice whispered in Piett's mind that left him clenching his jaw in a deliberate attempt to <em>not</em> put all the numbers together for fear that it might result in a revelation he wouldn’t be able to handle until he had a strong drink in front of him.</p><p>A pity that his shift had only just started.</p><p>Trying not to lose hope in the face of seven more hours of… <em>this</em>, he refocused his efforts on reaching the hangar and praying to whomever was listening that the medical team would arrive before he did, or he wouldn’t put any credits on betting that he would survive Lord Vader's wrath this time around. Not if it involved Lars. Especially not if it involved an <em>injured</em> Lars.</p><p>Which made him wonder why he was putting such haste behind arriving at the hangars in the first place when there was a very real possibility of his career ending <em>very</em> permanently the moment he arrived, but he had always been a poor liar when it came to himself. <em>Lars</em> was injured. And whatever had wounded the young man, it had been drastic enough that Lord Vader had somehow been able to pick up on it happening from across the Lady, kilometers away. And it had resulted in him tearing a path of destruction through anything that stood in his way.</p><p>It was clear that no matter what had happened, Lars had been affected by it in a significant manner, and damn himself thrice to hell, but he <em>cared</em> about the young man’s wellbeing. Cared enough that he was now rushing towards a potentially lethal situation merely to see if there was anything to be done.</p><p>He sighed after he had rattled off a destination to the Troopers manning the rail station, walking towards his assigned car at a swift pace. Force damn it all, but Veers was right when he said he was going soft for the young Engineer.</p><p>He just hoped it wouldn’t cost him his neck.</p><p>The railcar pulled out of the station and began hurtling across the rails towards its destination: the main hangar. Now to hope that it wouldn’t outpace the medical team.</p><p>Feeling anxiety pool low in his stomach, Piett fished out his comm, intent on getting another status update from the medical team currently making its way to the Head Engineer’s workshop much like he was.</p><p>Reconnecting with his last registered call, the comm beeped twice before connecting.</p><p>‘Captain!’ a voice crackled out over the line. ‘I get that the shit has hit the fan, but I can only tell you the same thing we told you the <em>last</em> three times you called: we’re on our way there, sir, and we can’t perform miracles!’</p><p>Piett uncomfortably cleared his throat at the reminder, but his anxiety was demanding satisfaction and where Lord Vader was concerned, one didn’t take any chances. ‘I am well aware of that, Medic Kix, but fact remains that I was just contacted by Lord Vader inquiring after your status. He arrived at the workshop and located Engineer Lars all of a few minutes ago. Needless to say, he was highly displeased with the absence of medical personnel.’</p><p>Several curses were spat across the line and Piett mentally echoed their sentiment. ‘Did he give any indication of Lars’ status?’ Kix briskly inquired. ‘Any kind of hints as to what we need to prepare for?’</p><p>Piett pressed his lips together as he recalled Lord Vader's words. ‘Nothing besides the fact that he found Engineer Lars in a state of severe injury, I’m afraid.’ A response which elicited another couple of hissed curses with a vehemency behind them that implied that the Medic had a deeper insight into what his Lordship would consider “severe injuries” than Piett did. He raised an eyebrow even as he knew it wouldn’t be visible to the other man. ‘I take it that means something to you, Medic?’</p><p>‘It means,’ Kix growled out, ‘That I have to order the bacta tank ready for use! <em>Haar’chak!’ </em><a id="back5" name="back5"></a><a href="#note5"><sup>[5]</sup></a></p><p>Well. That didn’t sound particularly good.</p><p>Piett sighed. Of course it didn’t. That would’ve been a <em>positive</em> thing in this Force-forsaken day, and we couldn’t have that, now could we?</p><p>‘Will you be arriving at the hangar shortly?’ he asked instead, determined to take on only the things he could handle and that would be useful to him. Having information to give to Lord Vader, should he call again or should he arrive earlier than the medical team, was useful. Attempting to try and solve a medical issue without any kind of proper training was not.</p><p>‘We’re in the elevators now, heading for the lower levels and coming in from the emergency routes,’ Kix quickly rattled off. ‘I estimate that our ETA is about another four minutes.’</p><p>‘Understood,’ Piett said seriously. ‘I will inform Lord Vader of such should I reach him before you do.’</p><p>‘Do that,’ Kix agreed swiftly. ‘Medic Kix, out.’ And with that the comm line went dead once more.</p><p>It left him no less anxious than before, but at least now he was armed with a bit of useful information that might give him a stay of execution should Lord Vader be at the end of his patience. Having checked and memorized the time on his comm, Piett stuffed comm unit back in his pocket right as the railcar pulled into the next station.</p><p>He got out of the car and almost immediately regretted it when he saw the sheer chaos swarming around him. Crewmates were sitting heavily on whatever surface they seemed to have been able to reach before their legs gave out, pale, wide-eyed, and clammy with fear. Various Engineers were wrestling their way through the crowds, demanding to be let through and be allowed to do their jobs, damnit! Large groups of people who had that signature jittery disposition that spoke of a large adrenaline jolt that had yet to wear off and who were speaking excitedly to each other. It was out and out chaos.</p><p>Breathing in deeply and regretting getting out of bed this morning, Piett shored up his composure and waded into the spooked masses, determined to get to his goal. Shouldering his way through several clusters of people in a manner that was not strictly polite but certainly highly effective, he came up to the exit, only to find it blocked off by a line of Stormtroopers with a clear no-nonsense disposition.</p><p>‘What is the meaning of all this, Sergeant?’ he asked, addressing the most highest-ranking Officer amongst the lineup as he approached.</p><p>The Sergeant snapped off a quick salute as he promptly answered the inquiry. ‘Sorry, sir, but there’s been an incident. Due to significant amounts of debris and rubble currently present in the main hangar, we’re under strict orders to bar access to the regular crew to give those tasked with the assessment more space to work with.’</p><p>Incident? ‘And what would be the nature of this incident, Sergeant?’ he asked sternly, feeling a pit in his stomach open up at the words “debris” and “rubble.”</p><p>‘Sergeant Havoc, sir. Lord Vader smashed the grand gates of the main hangar to pieces, sir,’ the Trooper— Havoc answered promptly, sounding far too blasé about that information. ‘There’s chunks of durasteel all over a large part of the hangar and the gearheads are currently busying themselves with assessing the damage and making sure his Lordship is given a wide berth. We don’t know what the cause of his wrath was, but they’re not taking any chances.’</p><p>
  <em>Smashed? The grand gates? Durasteel chunks all over the main hangar—!?</em>
</p><p>Piett breathed in deeply and granted himself the luxury of two seconds to compose himself and ignore all that information until such a time that he could process it. Getting to his Lordship and Engineer Lars was useful. A meltdown was not.</p><p>The grand gates were wrecked, presumably beyond repair. <em>Lord Vader</em> had demolished the grand gates, presumably to get to Lars just that much faster. Lord Vader was now with Lars. Presumably—</p><p>He cut off that thought before it spiraled any further. Now was <em>not</em> the time. And probably wouldn’t be for a while. Piett breathed in deep once more and refocused. Two seconds: nothing more, nothing less. Gates. The grand gates. They were now in pieces and it would be a hell of a task to either repair or replace them, but that was for later. Right now, he just needed to get through them.</p><p>‘Thank you for the information, Sergeant,’ he replied evenly, his mind settling into that particular calm that was so far past any kind of emotion. A grey, misty indifference to panic, shock, and stress, where what seemed like hour long contemplations could be made in mere snapshot moments. ‘I must ask that you let me pass. Lord Vader gave me orders and I intend to carry them out.’</p><p>‘Understood, sir,’ Havoc acknowledged without hesitation. He tapped the communicator on his arm. ‘Alright, lads, I’m letting Captain Piett through here. He’s under orders from his Lordship, so keep out of his way, got it?’</p><p>Piett was unable to hear the reply given to Havoc, but he straightened out shortly enough and gave him a short nod. ‘All clear, sir. Do be careful though, his Lordship is in a right foul mood at the moment.’</p><p>He snorted softly. ‘Thank you, Sergeant, but believe me when I say that I was already well aware of that.’ A thought occurred to him as he was about to end the conversation and he nearly smacked himself for almost allowing that oversight to occur. ‘There is also a medical team either on its way, if it hasn’t already arrived. They are not to be obstructed or otherwise inconvenienced,’ he informed the Sergeant, tone brokering no argument. ‘Lord Vader ordered for their presence and is already displeased with their timing. Do not delay them any further. For all our sakes.’</p><p>The Sergeant nodded sharply. ‘Duly noted, sir. I’ll see to it that they’re not bothered. And good luck.’</p><p>With that, Havoc stepped aside to let him through and Piett wasted no further time, heading right past the Sergeant and into the adjacent highway leading to the main hangar.</p><p>Turning a corner, he had exactly two thoughts before the full impact of the situation hit him. The first was how much more open and brighter the area looked with the two fifty-meter tall doors no longer there, blocking the light.</p><p>The second was that the <em>fifty-meter tall doors </em><em>were no longer there.</em></p><p>Staring flabbergasted at the gaping opening that was once the largest set of gates ever created for a starship’s interior, Piett didn’t know what he had expected when the sergeant told him that Lord Vader had wrecked the grand gates, but it sure as <em>hell</em> wasn’t this!</p><p>The great, gaping, jagged hole that looked more akin to a punched-through piece of paper than a blast-resistant wall made of solid durasteel several meters thick. Great reams of durasteel curled outwards like ragged leaves in an almost-elegant manner if it weren’t for the fact that it was <em>durasteel.</em> The air still glittered with unsettled metallic dust, and it was on pure autopilot that Piett was able to pull out a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth.</p><p>This was <em>madness</em><em>.</em></p><p>And Lord Vader had done this?</p><p>He shuddered. For once, he was grateful of the fact that he wasn’t an Engineer with the knowledge necessary to calculate the sheer power needed to achieve a result like this. He still needed to be able to face Lord Vader without swallowing his own tongue in fear, thank you <em>very</em> much.</p><p>Readjusting his handkerchief and courage, he set a brisk pace forward to the now-ruined gates. As the Sergeant had said, debris and rubble littered the ground of the hangar. What he had failed to mention, however, was that the majority of said debris was easily the size of a TIE Fighter cockpit and now rested in minor craters where they had impacted the floor, leaving a landscape eerily reminiscent of that of a low-atmosphere moon. If said moon consisted for the majority of high grade durasteel, that is.</p><p>Shivering at the sight, Piett resolved not to think too hard about it as he strode through the pockmarked entrance. He had a job to do, and damn if a mere power display was going to dissuade him from it. Even if it was, quite frankly, a terrifying display.</p><p>Dodging his way around various Engineers, Troopers, and masses of durasteel the size of boulders, he hurried through the final stretch of his journey. The main hangar’s size had never seemed so insurmountable, and yet, so small at the same time. It was likely the fact that it was all the distance standing between him, Lord Vader, and an injured Lars, Piett decided bleakly, but at the same time the universe seemed far too determined to test his nerves in every way possible.</p><p>Turning corner around one of the drydocked ships, he looked over to where the corridor to the workshop was and—</p><p><em>Oh thank whatever deities were listening,</em> he thought silently as his shoulders slumped with relief.</p><p>The medical team had arrived before him.</p><p>Ten med-tech personnel were swarming around the entrance of the dreaded corridor—now with barely-functional lighting and deep gouges along the sides, something which could likely be attributed to Lord Vader's rage—unloading a hover stretcher from the modified on-board ambulance, others loading up on first-aid packs and clearly intending to head over to the station he had just left. Medic Kix was barking out orders, both at his men and into a comm, and surveying the unfolding operation with a steely glint in his eyes.</p><p>Feeling several weights lift off of his shoulder, Piett slowed his pace as he approached the ball of swarming activity, taking care to approach in such a way that wouldn’t hinder the Medics from doing their jobs.</p><p>Kix noticed his approach and held up a hand to forestall any inquiries while he rattled off the final few orders into his comm unit. Untrained though he was in medical procedures, even Piett could tell it was hardly a good sign when orders for preparations for surgery and skin grafts were made. And add that to the clone’s earlier comment about needing to prepare a bacta tank…</p><p>What the <em>hell</em> had happened here?</p><p>He didn’t have any time to dwell on it though, as Kix swiftly finished instructing the med-techs on the other end of the line and turned over to Piett with a nod.</p><p>‘Captain,’ he greeted with something of a wry grin. ‘Looks like we outpaced you yet, sir.’</p><p>Piett let out a shuddering breath that was almost a laugh, permitting himself this one show of relief. ‘That you did, Medic Kix. And I must say I’m rather grateful for that fact as well.’</p><p>The clone made a low noise in the back of his throat and nodded in agreement, before turning his gaze back on the corridor, and Piett noted with surprise that the Medics not making their way to the station were taking up the exact same position. Eyes fixated on the corridor, their bodies tensed for action, and ready to spring at a moment’s notice, but not one was actually making the move towards the workshop itself.</p><p>He furrowed his brow in confusion for a moment before he felt it. That distinct chill in the air. And then, barely a moment later, the distinctive cycling of a respirator.</p><p>The sound made something in Piett's hindbrain freeze like a deer caught in headlights, and scream at him to run, run <em>now.</em> Before it was too late. But he’d made suppressing such instincts into an artform in his time spent serving under Lord Vader and remained firmly in place as the sound of heavy footsteps rapidly closed in.</p><p>His eyes strained to see through the broken and occasionally flickering lights of the corridor, and as much as he tried, he didn’t notice the figure of Lord Vader emerging from the gloom until the black specter was nearly at the entrance of the corridor already.</p><p>He didn’t startle when the towering form of his Commander became visible, but it was a near thing. Head angled low, the mask looked like it was glaring darkly at them, and a dripping noise that Piett dreaded to know the source of became apparent underneath the sound of the respirator.</p><p>None of that was enough to distract from the limp body his Lordship held cradled against his chest, nearly entirely obscured by black fabric.</p><p>Lars.</p><p>Piett's eyes widened as he rapidly took in all details he could see.</p><p>The young man was clearly in a deep state of unconsciousness, and, judging by the mantle securely wrapped around him, he had lost a great deal of blood if his Lordship had felt it necessary to keep Lars warm in that manner. He could also finally see the source of the persistent dripping noise. A dark liquid that <em>had</em> to be blood trickled sluggishly from the tattered edges of the mantle, marking the trail Lord Vader had walked in a gruesome manner.</p><p>What the entire fresh <em>hell</em> had happened here?</p><p>Between one step and the next the fold of fabric covering up Lars’ face fell away and it was only the years of practice in keeping his expression blank that allowed Piett to keep his face blank of the sheer horror and revulsion he felt when he finally caught sight of the young man’ face beyond a slight widening of his eyes. Burnt and blackened, Piett could tell even from this distance that the med-techs had a long task ahead of them if they were to get Lars back into shape.</p><p>Dear Force, the poor boy looked more like an oven accident than the cheerful and passionate young man he normally was. This— what— <em>how</em>—?</p><p>All those questions raced through his mind, but he rapidly relegated them to a backburner as Lord Vader stalked over to them with long strides and clear intent. Whether that intent was to get Lars the medical attention he so clearly needed or to strangle them all was frightfully difficult to discern.</p><p>Medic Kix, however, seemed to have no such issue.</p><p>‘My Lord,’ the clone acknowledged with a clipped tone as he clearly took in Lars’ appearance, pursing his lips as his eyes landed on the trail of blood seeping out from under the protective covering of his Lordship’s heavy mantle. ‘Lay him out on the stretcher, we’ll get him to the operating room,’ he ordered easily, not a trace of anything but professionalism and determination of a veteran in his voice.</p><p>‘What took you so long?’ Lord Vader growled back, even as he—to Piett's surprise—easily followed the Medic’s orders, striding over to the aforementioned stretcher with Lars still tucked securely against his chest.</p><p>Medic Kix, in a move that made Piett question the sanity of the man, scoffed even as he stepped in to help the Lord lower his precious cargo onto the stretcher with extraordinary care. ‘Unlike you, sir, we hardly have the capability to perform miracles,’ he muttered lowly. ‘We came as fast as we could, probably even faster.’</p><p>If Lord Vader drew any issue with that statement, he didn’t let it show beyond a low sound that emanated from his vocoder, allowing the Medic to gently cradle Lars’ head in his hands as he lowered the rest of the young man’s body onto the stretcher, the mantle falling away in the process fold by fold and—</p><p>Piett immediately wished it hadn’t.</p><p>Staring numbly at the bloody stump that the dark Lord carefully laid by Lars’ right side, he wondered in what world it would be considered fair that Luke Lars—a boy who some of the Crewmates had begun referring to as “The Lady’s Sun” and, more quietly, when they thought no one could hear, “The Shadow's Temperance” or “Conscience,” depending on how close they felt like skating the line of insubordination—would lose a limb.</p><p>Clenching his hand into a fist and digging his nails into his palm, Piett gritted his teeth against the heart-wrenching sight of a young man—<em>a boy,</em> his mind whispered—marked by such a grievous injury. <em>This wasn’t supposed to happen,</em> he thought numbly. Not aboard the Lady. Not to someone like Lars, who’d never even signed on for a combat position.</p><p>There were protocols in place to prevent these kinds of things. Protocols and rules and <em>common fucking sense</em> and—</p><p>—And none of that mattered now. Not anymore.</p><p>He sighed, sadness welling up inside of him, and unclenched his hand. The world resumed with only two seconds lost.</p><p>Medic Kix hissed quietly as he caught sight of the grievous injury, and immediately began barking out orders for someone to get him a tourniquet and pressure bandage. A flurry of activity whirled around the stretcher, but throughout it all, Piett noticed that Lord Vader never so much as twitched as he loomed over Lars’ unconscious body. <em>A silent sentinel keeping watch over its charge,</em> Piett thought half-hysterically.</p><p>Gaze fixated on the utterly alien, and yet utterly natural sight of his ruthless Commander standing guard over an unconscious Lars like the galaxy’s most terrifying—</p><p>There was absolutely no way to finish that thought that was in any way acceptable, Piett rapidly concluded, shutting it down with extreme prejudice. Not if Lord Vader somehow happened to catch wind of it, and—with what the man (could he even call his Commander a man anymore? With what he had just demonstrated himself of being capable of?) had just done—he felt far from comfortable in excluding such a possibility from the realm of reality.</p><p>Swallowing minutely, he kept an eye on Lord Vader as the med-techs rushed around them, readying Lars for his rapid trip to the medical wing as quickly as possible. Still standing statue-like over Lars as still as a statue, the man only moved when Medic Kix carefully pushed him out of the way to get a better angle on Lars and the IV he had to insert. In a move utterly uncharacteristic of the man, Lord Vader went easily with the clone’s manhandling and stepped aside as Kix focused entirely on his patient.</p><p>Which unfortunately meant the dark Lord was heading directly for Piett.</p><p>Keeping his silence as the black specter took up position next to him, Piett tried to gauge his superior’s mood, only to find his usual methods entirely useless as the man’s entire focus was still solely fixated on Lars.</p><p>Only one way to find out then.</p><p>‘My Lord?’ he asked carefully, hesitant to break the dark behemoth out of his contemplation, and yet desperate for some answers about this whole insanity. When he received a minute incline of Lord Vader's mask and somehow <em>felt</em> his Lordship’s attention split in two, he continued with all prudent hesitation. ‘My Lord,’ he repeated, ‘What in the world <em>happened</em> here?’</p><p>The question hung in the air where it felt like it was only moments away from being struck down, but Lord Vader merely dipped his head further as a low growl rattled out of his vocoder. <em>‘That, </em>Captain,’ he hissed quietly, ‘I would like to know as well.’ </p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>‘My Lord?’ he asked quietly.</p><p>Lord Vader's mask tilted over lightly to face him, but the air around him betrayed the idle gesture for what it truly was. ‘I found Engineer Lars in the 3D printer room,’ Lord Vader summarized in a clipped tone, each syllable rife with something restrained and <em>furious </em>as he ground out the words<em>.</em> ‘There are signs it has been heavily ravaged by fire and a great concussive force. My estimate for the cause of such a state would be a dust explosion.’</p><p>Regardless of the fact (or well, perhaps more of a <em>hope</em>) that he knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, the sheer fact that an absolutely furious Lord Vader was standing next to him was doing next to nothing to benefit Piett's nerves.</p><p>Thank the Force that he’d learned how to carry on even with them all shot to the void.</p><p>‘A dust explosion, my Lord?’ he asked, sounding much calmer than the alarm bells ringing inside him. ‘You’ll have to forgive my ignorance, but how would such a thing occur inside the workshop?’</p><p>As far as he was aware, dust explosions generally required a great deal of, well, <em>dust</em> to occur, far more than what was generally present within the air and certainly more than was present within the religiously cleaned workshop (courtesy of a small army of mouse droids).</p><p>‘The 3D printers,’ Lord Vader answered bluntly. ‘They make use of a fine, metal powder to print out objects. Powder that is fused together with a high-powered laser which can, in a moment, turn into the ignition.’ Arms crossed over hard plastisteel and the air shifted to something dark and heavy. <em>‘However,’</em> he rumbled out. ‘Engineers are more than aware of that risk, and thus, fail-safes are built in to prevent these kinds of catastrophes. <em>Which means,</em>’ the dark Lord hissed out, ‘That they were either disabled or defective, neither of which would have happened without the safety protocols on the devices activating.’</p><p>Piett clenched his hands into fists as he caught where Lord Vader's train of thought had led. If what his Commander said was true…</p><p>A moment of silence stretched between the two men before the black mask turned back to face Lars. ‘Something happened here, Captain,’ the vocoder growled out darkly. ‘Something that <em>should not have. </em>And I <em>will</em> find out what caused it.’</p><p>That last statement was said with enough force that Piett, for a moment, could picture the sheer rampage the Lord might go on to find out what had harmed his—</p><p>And then the moment was over, two seconds consigned to the past, and he furrowed his brow as he shortly inclined his head. ‘May I ask how, my Lord?’ It was a redundant question, obviously, but he had played this part before and knew his role in this exchange well. They had succeeded in every single endeavor that came before.</p><p>This time would be no different.</p><p>And Lord Vader seemed to realize he knew too, as he tilted his mask a full quarter towards Piett, likely making it somewhat difficult to keep a continuous eye on Lars. The keyword being “likely.” He no longer felt comfortable saying with certainty what his Commander was and was not capable of.</p><p>‘An investigation, Captain Piett,’ the vocoder rumbled darkly, the tone giving the familiar call-and-response a twist that sent shivers down Piett's spine. ‘I want this incident to be the first and the <em>last</em> of its kind.’ </p><p>Before he could answer or affirm that statement, Piett was interrupted by the familiar brusque tone that had been steadily giving out orders in the background.</p><p>‘Good plan,’ Kix said as he walked up to the both of them. ‘Great plan. And you’ll get to carry it out <em>after</em> you’ve been to medical, my Lord,’ he informed them bluntly, erring just on the side of respect.</p><p>A rumble made itself known within the vocoder. ‘I am fine, Kix,’ Lord Vader dismissed, but—and Piett noted that he would likely later point out this moment as to when he <em>finally</em> lost ever last fuck to give—Kix scoffed carelessly as he interrupted the Lord with a flat look.</p><p>‘My Lord,’ the Medic said, dry as dust. ‘I can <em>see</em> you bleeding through your suit.’</p><p>Quickly glancing downwards, Piett was surprised to indeed notice gashes and patches where the thick suit had completely worn away under the abuse it had been subjected to. With the whole right side looking like it had been subjected to an industrial sandpaper burnisher, he could see dark blood slowly trickling out of dozens of tears in small rivulets that stained the remains of the suit with a sticky shine. Piett blinked owlishly at them. How the <em>hell</em> hadn’t he noticed <em>that</em> before?</p><p>Lord Vader seemed to be in something of a similar predicament as he examined his own suit. A rare flash of surprise looked like it manifested itself in the dark Lord as he saw the gashes along the suit, but it could just as easily have been a trick of the light when his Lordship’s demeanor took on an air of utter indifference in a moment’s time.</p><p>‘It is of no concern,’ he stated, indeed looking wholly unbothered by his injuries. ‘There are more important matters to tend—’</p><p>‘Sir,’ Kix interrupted flatly, ‘<em>Ni dabay rejorhaar’ir Goran.’</em> <a id="back6" name="back6"></a><a href="#note6"><sup>[6]</sup></a></p><p>And whatever <em>that</em> meant stopped Lord Vader dead in his tracks, his full attention shifting over to Kix with a snap and an intensity that was, frankly speaking, unsettling, and made Piett nearly back up a step.</p><p>Medic Kix, however, in a move that spoke of either madness, courage, or mad courage, merely raised an impassive eyebrow at the dark Lord as he mirrored the aforementioned man’s pose by crossing his arms. ‘Please make this easy and accompany us to medical, sir, if you would.’</p><p>It was anything but a question.</p><p>Which Lord Vader, contrary to all that Piett had come to expect of him, also seemed resigned to. A burst of static flitted through the air, and before he could even begin to decipher what it could possibly mean, Vader nodded.</p><p>‘Very well, Kix, you have made your point,’ he acquiesced with more grace than Piett had expected, but that thought flew out the airlock when the red lenses turned instead to fixate onto him. Straightening up to full attention, Piett anticipated the orders he had a strong suspicion were about to follow.</p><p>‘Captain Piett,’ Vader addressed him with a curt dip of his head, ‘Considering it is being insisted upon that I submit myself to a medical examination, I leave the investigation in your hands. Find out the cause of this incident and report back to me. If you need assistance or further information, I would recommend contacting Engineer Lyvon, they will have the necessary technical information. Is this clear?’</p><p>As if he even needed to ask. Piett nodded firmly and saluted sharply. ‘Yes, my Lord. It will be done.’</p><p>The red lenses remained fixed on him for a long moment before dipping into a nod. ‘Very well, Captain. You have my full authorization to carry out any actions you deem necessary to further your investigation. May the Force be with you.’</p><p>And it may have just been the stress, Piett reflected. It may have just been his own mind tricking itself. But as Lord Vader spoke those words, for a moment—and just one moment—he could feel a warmth and strength suffuse him that spoke of something <em>more</em> than just the faith that had been bestowed upon him.</p><p>Stepping back as the commotion around them began to pick up once more, Piett watched as Lord Vader strode over to the ambulance that Lars’ stretcher had already been loaded into and ducked inside, accompanied by Medic Kix. The sight of his towering Commander attempting to fit into a standard-sized on-board ambulance would have been at the very least slightly humorous if it wasn’t for whom the image concerned and the current circumstances.</p><p>Catching one last glance of Lars laid out on a stretcher—various tubes sticking out of the young man’s battered and broken body while an oxygen mask covered up his burned face—Piett watched as the doors of the ambulance containing both his official and unofficial superior slid shut with a bang. The piercing sound of the sirens blared out of the speakers as the vehicle peeled away from the cursed hallway and began to build up speed at a rapid pace. Within seconds it had disappeared from sight, and the sirens faded away as they headed for the elevator station.</p><p>Piett sighed deeply and let some of the built-up stress bleed out of his shoulders. That had gone… better than expected, if he was completely honest with himself. He had expected more carnage from this meeting after seeing what the dark Lord had done to the grand gates, but it seemed like even when in a state of deep unconsciousness, Lars’ influence on his Lordship held up.</p><p>Which was… frightening on its own, but not something he feasibly could or even really wanted to do anything about, so he dismissed the thought.</p><p>For now, he had far more important matters to attend to.</p><p>Sighing, he readjusted his already ruffled uniform that was still mildly glittering on the shoulders with metallic dust, and turned back into the hangar. If he was going to head an investigation as to what had so grievously harmed the young Head Engineer, he was going to need assistance.</p><p>Engineer Lyvon…</p><p>Admittedly, Piett hadn’t interacted much with the man in the relatively short time they had been Head of the Engineering Corps, the Engineer wisely choosing to stay as far out of the way of general command as possible and preferring to give report digitally or through proxy. Then Lars had come aboard and the whole point was moot anyway, with the cheerful young man taking over the duties that required interaction with the upper ranks.</p><p>He hummed low in his throat. The fact that he would now be working with the man in the investigation would be… interesting, to say the least.</p><p>Marching back through the hangar, he located the nearest squad of Engineers taking stock of the thoroughly wrecked hangar, and even from a distance he could hear the muttering amongst them as they attempted to make sense of what had just happened.</p><p>‘Pardon the interruption,’ he said easily as he approached the group of them working, returning their sharp salutes as he made his way over. ‘But I am under orders to locate Engineer Lyvon, could you point me in their direction?’</p><p>The Engineers gave each other short glances before one of them stepped forward, a clone with a short-shorn haircut and a tattoo featuring three interlocking gears stepped forward. ‘Sure thing, sir,’ he agreed easily. ‘Name’s Gearbox. Lyvon’s probably near the grand gates, or well—’ he interrupted himself with a rueful grin, ‘What <em>were</em> the grand gates. They’ll be taking stock of the damage to the systems and giving out orders. Tall guy, very dark skin, crew-cut curls and a big-ass scar along their jaw, you know the drill, right?’ the clone—Gearbox, rattled off easily while jabbing a thumb in the general direction of the hole that once were the grand gates.</p><p>Piett was about to thank the Engineer when the man held up a hand to forestall him. ‘One more thing, sir,’ he said while pulling a clear plastisteel, full-face respirator from his belt. ‘You’ll want to wear this. Heavy metals in the air are no one’s friend and that piece of cloth you’ve got won’t do much to protect your eyes.’</p><p>He handed the respirator over to Piett and with a bit of fiddling, he managed to fit the contraption over his face to the point that Gearbox nodded in satisfaction.</p><p>‘Aye, that’ll do, sir. Like I said, grand gates, barking out orders, the whole shebang,’ he repeated easily, crossing his arms. ‘Just return the respirator to the armory when you’re done with it, sir.’</p><p>Adjusting the unwieldy plastisteel over his face to sit comfortably, he nodded towards Gearbox and said, ‘Will do, Engineer Gearbox. Thank you.’</p><p>The clone waved him off irreverently, and Piett would be irked by his careless attitude if it weren’t for the situation. Inter-Corps deference could wait in the face of the devastation Lord Vader had wrought.</p><p>Making his way past the chunks of debris where the Engineers were assessing the damage, Piett headed straight for the <em>ex</em>-grand gates. The closer he came to the entrance, the more Engineers he noticed with respirators on, working to take measurements and samples. No longer occupied with getting to his destination as soon as humanly possible and managing the fear of strangulation somewhere in the back of his mind, Piett could now fully observe just how much the main hangar resembled a war zone.</p><p>The air was still thick with metallic dust that covered everything—including himself, he noted irritably. He’d have to switch out his uniform during his lunch break—in a fine, shimmering layer of dust. Engineers in various states of hazard gear were looking at the utterly ruined frame of the grand gates, depowering the still sparking electric wires and patching the burst coolant lines. Heavy machinery roared as it sucked in huge quantities of air, presumably to filter out the hazardous material as soon as possible. And in the middle of it all, stood a man on top of a particularly large fragment of durasteel, surveying the ongoing work.</p><p>Squinting his eyes to see through the mist of powdered metal and general dust, Piett took in the man’s appearance. Tall, definitely taller than he was, with a head full of curls that had turned nearly white with the amount of powder that’d gathered in them, and when they turned their head, the glare of the respirator’s mask abated just enough to see a dark face and the edges of what seemed to be a scar—</p><p>‘Engineer Lyvon?’ he called out as he approached the man.</p><p>Said man looked towards him the moment he called out the name, taking in his appearance and saluting sharply once their eyes landed on the bars pinned to his chest. Saluting back promptly, Piett watched as the Engineer jumped off of their perch and headed for him.</p><p>‘Captain Piett, sir,’ they greeted, ‘What can I do for you?’</p><p>‘As you may or may not have noticed, Engineer Lyvon, Lord Vader was in something of a haste when he came through here,’ Piett began drily, the other man snorting and muttering something under their breath that sounded a lot like the word “understatement.”</p><p>‘Indeed,’ he agreed easily. ‘But are you aware of the reason for it?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow and keeping a careful eye on his immediate surroundings. He had no doubt that the knowledge of Lars’ admittance to the medical wing would be widespread before the day was out, but it wouldn’t do to spread the rumors before a proper narrative had been found.</p><p>For their part, Lyvon furrowed their brow as they slowly nodded their head, hesitation clear on their face. ‘The fire alarm in Lars’ workshop went off just a bit earlier, and I was on my way there with a few others when Lord Vader, well, burst through.’ They made a low burring sound of contemplation in their throat. ‘We had assumed the damage was minimal, but if Lord Vader's actions and the arrival of an ambulance are anything to go off of then…’ they trailed off, uncertainty clear in their voice as they looked at Piett with a clear question and worry in their eyes.</p><p>He sighed deeply. ‘Engineer Lars was found unconscious in the 3D printing room, according to Lord Vader,’ he revealed, before deciding to simply rip the band aid off. ‘He had suffered a great deal of blood loss, third degree burns in multiple places as far as I could see, and—’ he swallowed uncomfortably, before forcing the words out regardless. ‘And the loss of a limb.’</p><p>A strangled sound cut through the air, Lyvon visibly flinching backwards at the words. ‘What— <em>Luke—?’</em></p><p>‘—Is currently being transported for surgery and bacta immersion, last I saw him,’ he assured the Engineer as best he could. ‘Lord Vader is with him, as he sustained injuries of his own in his quest to locate Engineer Lars as quickly as possible. He left me with a set of orders and instructions to find you, Engineer Lyvon.’</p><p>No response came from the other man, amber eyes wide with shock behind the respirators plastisteel.</p><p>‘Engineer Lyvon?’ he asked carefully. ‘I realize this is a shock, so if you need—’</p><p><em>‘No,</em><em>’</em> came the immediate interruption, and though Piett felt somewhat surprised at the vehemence behind it, he thought it likely that he didn’t even look half as surprised as Lyvon themselves. The man shook their head briefly before meeting Piett's gaze again. ‘I— no, I am— <em>will be,</em> fine.’ They breathed in deeply before nodding to themselves. ‘What is it you came to ask, Captain Piett,’ they asked, sounding just a bit too hollow. ‘Asides from delivering this horrific news, that is.’</p><p>Piett pursed his lips in sympathy as he took in the appearance of other man. The dust in their hair made them look ancient instead of the relative youth their face showed them to still have, though you wouldn’t guess it by the look in their eyes.</p><p>‘Lord Vader instructed me to spearhead an investigation into the incident in his absence,’ he revealed quietly. ‘To ensure that it is, and I quote, “the first and last of its kind.”’ He shifted his stance slightly as he looked Lyvon straight in the eyes. ‘To that end, I was advised to recruit you, Engineer Lyvon, to assist me in the areas of the investigation that concern knowledge that I do not possess, such as engineering.’</p><p>Lyvon looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly. ‘I see.’ They audibly sucked in a deep breath and nodded once more. ‘I am, of course, at your service, Captain.’ And then, much more certain and with steel lacing their voice, ‘When do we begin?’</p><p>‘Considering the matter it concerns?’ Piett asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘As soon as possible. I believe it best for our continued health to not delay any more than necessary.’</p><p>Lyvon crossed their arms and tapped their bicep thoughtfully, eyes fixed at some point above Piett's head. ‘I agree, of course, but I have to ask that we do delay at least until tomorrow, sir.’ They lowered their gaze back down and met Piett's evenly. ‘As—in case you are unaware, sir—you must know that the Engineering Corps has received a rather sudden influx of tasks to complete post haste,’ they noted drily.</p><p>Allowing a wry smile to stretch across his face, Piett nodded in acquiesce. ‘Granted. Though if that is the case, I must ask that you station someone at the entrance to the workshop to ensure that no one disturbs the scene.’</p><p>Lyvon frowned for a moment. ‘I could just order the doors lock—’ and then they cut themselves off, their eyes closing with a sigh as the realization visibly set in. ‘Right. Never mind. Note to self: add the workshop’s blast doors to the repair list.’</p><p>Piett grimaced in sympathy, but didn’t contradict them. ‘I shall see you tomorrow then, Engineer Lyvon?’ he offered instead.</p><p>The man nodded absently as they pulled a hand through their hair, grimacing in disgust when it came back pale with dust and powdered metal. ‘Yes, sir, I will be there,’ they agreed as they wiped their hand on their overalls. ‘Though I do suggest you borrow a pair of overalls for the investigation itself, sir,’ they added with a thoughtful glance at Piett's uniform. ‘Or at the very least not your best uniform set. There is really no telling what kind of state the printer room will be in, and I doubt you’d want to wander the Lady with various assorted stains on your uniform.’</p><p>Well, there was a good point if Piett had ever heard one. ‘Noted, Engineer,’ he agreed evenly. ‘I will meet you at the workshop entrance tomorrow at nine-hundred hours on the dot. Until then,’ he glanced around the main hangar with a sympathetic eye on the sheer extent of the organized chaos taking place, wincing as he saw several Engineers attempt to remove a dangling piece of wrecked durasteel from the gates’ frame and fail, ‘I wish you good luck.’</p><p>Lyvon matched his grimace with an equal one of their own. ‘Thank you, sir,’ they said, before turning back to him with steel in their eyes and a smile that showed just a little too many teeth to be friendly. ‘Regardless of circumstances, however, it will be a pleasure to work with you, Captain Piett.’ Their eyes flashed dangerously for a moment. ‘And hopefully,’ they said significantly, ‘The hunt will favor us both.’</p><p>And just like that, Piett knew that he’d enjoy working with Engineer Lyvon. Returning the smile with a bland inoffensiveness that he knew his eyes belied, he inclined his head in agreement, watching Lyvon’s smile widen even further out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>‘I believe, Engineer Lyvon,’ he noted idly, turning back to the carnage around them. ‘That this is the beginning of a rather extraordinary partnership indeed.’</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note5" name="note5"></a>[5] <em>Haar’chak:</em> a mando’a curse. Basically the equivalent of “Damn it!” <sup><a href="#back5">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>



<li>
<a id="note6" name="note6"></a>[6] <em>Ni dabay rejohaar’ir Goran:</em> “I will tell the Armorer.” Basically, Kix threatened to tell Luke about Vader's recalcitrancy to submit to medical, and Vader folded like a lawn chair <sup><a href="#back6">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's that! Our favorite Captain has entered the fray, and let me tell you, his competence is going to get us places!</p><p>We have one more chapter of an odd date coming up, after which we will resume our regular posting schedule of one chapter, every Sunday. So, due to special reasons, chapter four will be released on <b>January 6th</b> instead of January 3rd. After that, chapters will resume to be posted on Sunday again, and you can expect chapter 5 on <b>January 10th.</b></p><p>I will see all of you marvelous muffins in the New Year, so have a good one and light a sparkler on my behalf as well. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. It Will Hurt You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The process of healing begins, but, as with all good things, the path to it is fraught and arduous. Thankfully, others can help you carry the burden.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here we are again! Happy Birthday to the glorious <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_is_THORapy/pseuds/Writing_is_THORapy">@Writing_is_THORapy!</a> This chapter is in dedication of them, and thus I present to you this beautiful mess of angsty fluff and comfort!</p><p>Now without further ado—</p><p>The Trigger List:</p><ol>
<li><b>Waking up during surgery</b></li>
<li><b>Graphic descriptions of Pain and Injury</b></li>
<li><b>Graphic Body Horror</b></li>
<li><b>Drowning Imagery (no actual drowning)</b></li>
</ol><p>
  <i>Take care, dears, and <i>enjoy!</i></i>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Darth Vader couldn’t remember the last time he had been obligated to sit through an entire medical evaluation without ducking out because of an emergency at some point—or simply leaving—but as Kix prodded away at his various wounds and systems, he had to begrudgingly admit that the Medic had expertly found a chink in his armor in which to stick a scalpel and twist the blade.</p><p>
  <em>“I will tell the Armorer.” </em>
</p><p>Growling irritably at his own moment of weakness, he turned the moment over and over in the privacy of his own, heavily-shielded mind in an attempt to figure out why, in that exact moment, he had ceded so easily to the Medic’s demands. Luke held no authority over him, nor did the child have any reason to care about whether or not he was fully operational, and yet…</p><p>Something hissed in amusement as it curled around him. Wearily opening his Eyes, he took in the ever-changing form of the Dark as it writhed around him, twisting into contented helixes and parabolas that reflected a false light into his Eyes and curling easily through the Tethers. It pressed up and against and around his mind in languid pulses, and with some dread, he allowed it in, knowing it was unavoidable when he was like this. Immediately, it began projecting its message into him.</p><p><strong><em>Desired for Child—Sleeper—Nebula to continue—remain perceiving You,</em></strong> it impressed upon him with the distinct undertone of mocking laughter and stars filtered through a haze of smoke. <strong><em>You as Child—Sleeper—Nebula perceives. You as More Than You.</em></strong></p><p>He hated it when it told him the truth.</p><p>He couldn’t recall the last time he hadn’t hated it.</p><p><strong><em>Truth,</em></strong> it sang into his mind with glee. <strong><em>Truth—Knowledge—Unavoidable—Real. Child—Sleeper—Nebula Is. You as perceived Are Not. Desired it Not So.</em></strong></p><p>Cursed thing.</p><p><strong><em>Am,</em></strong> it agreed without compunction. <strong><em>Am, Am, AM. You Made It So. You perceive what Is Not. You create what Is Not. Mirror—Equal—Yours—Mine—Truth. Perceive what Is. What Is, Is Truth! Trapped! Truth! Trapped! TRUTH!</em></strong></p><p>Enough of this.</p><p>He closed his Eyes, focused on the Force, and brought his shields back up. It, unfortunately, managed to slip out before it got caught on the edge, with a parting shot into his mind as it went. Hissing at the last, sharp impression of what it perceived as the truth and dismissing it just as easily, Vader began following the Tethers back to himself. Kix had been granted enough time to do as he pleased.</p><p>He truly despised the necessity of this whole circus every time medical treatment became a true necessity for him, but with neither narcotics or opioids of any stripe having any kind of effect on him, putting himself into deep meditation was the only solution to granting the medical personnel any kind of peace while working on him. Reflexes were something not even he could fully suppress, after all.</p><p>Unfortunately, it meant leaving himself open to a much more direct connection with the Dark.</p><p>He sighed, putting the thoughts out of his mind and refocusing on guiding himself back along the Tethers. It was what it was.</p><p>The more he pulled himself along, the more the mundane, tedious sensations of a mortal body returned to his awareness. The heaviness of once more existing within reality, the sensation of air flowing in and out of his ruined lungs under the same, steady rhythm that continued regardless of anything, and the faraway sounds of someone cursing in Mando’a.</p><p>And then the pain set in.</p><p>Clenching his teeth against the burning, biting, <em>blinding</em> sensation of agony, he concentrated on the forced cycles of the respirator in a sheer mockery of breathing exercises. Unfortunately, in his state of existence, a mockery would have to do.</p><p>Taking more time than he was entirely comfortable with, the pain faded to the background and reasserted its status as his equilibrium, his psyche once more used to the status quo.</p><p>Opening his eyes, the world had regained its familiar blood-red tint, and with that, he knew all was once more in its proper place. Well, nearly. The excruciating sensation of someone tugging on his internal flesh and the continued cursing in Mando’a told him that Kix and any other Medic that might be involved <em>hadn’t</em> had enough time to finish their tasks, and he resigned himself to staying still throughout another round of emergency surgery.</p><p>The familiar feeling of biting liquid on said exposed internal flesh told him that at least he had woken up during the final stages of the operation—the current one, either way—if bacta was already being internally applied before the flesh would be fused back together.</p><p>Closing his eyes once more in an attempt to block out the world, he almost turned his attention back to the cycling of the respirator when something brushed up against the edges of his consciousness. Frowning in confusion, he cast out a pulse of Dark to identify the intruder upon his suffering. Small, weak, but still shining—</p><p>
  <em>Luke.</em>
</p><p>His mind snapped to full awareness in an instant as he felt the weakened—though strengthening—presence nudged up to him with all the grace of a dreaming cub. Clumsy and untrained, the child’s subconscious was clearly aware of nothing more than the fact that it was attempting to seek out comfort and a familiar presence and had found him by sheer coincidence.</p><p>His heart dropped to his stomach before rocketing up into his throat as the painfully familiar Force signature nearly nuzzled against him, muzzy with a sense of a deep and healing rest.</p><p>
  <em>Oh Luke.</em>
</p><p>Carefully, oh so carefully, and with all gracelessness of someone as unpracticed as him in the art of offering comfort, he brought his own signature closer to that of Luke's. Allowing it to expand and curl around the child like a krayt would around its hoard, projecting the unfamiliar sensations of <em>safety, comfort,</em> and <em>warmth</em> to the child’s sleeping mind.</p><p>The pain of the surgery faded away in its entirety as his entire awareness reoriented itself towards the minute candle flame of iridescent light that radiated peaceful contentment as it nestled deeper into the darkness of Vader's own signature. He stared at Luke in wonderment, his mind’s Eye taking in every last sliver of iridescent light that marked the child’s signature so very, very bright against the backdrop of Vader's own void black one.</p><p>The fledgling bond they shared floated around them in ribbons of silver starlight and hummed with contentment as Luke's sleeping, unguarded mind allowed him to send impressions across it in a way he consciously never would be able to. Lowering his own shields just enough to hear the child, he nudged himself closer to the miniscule speck of light with as much care as he was able to.</p><p><em>Warm</em><em>,</em> came the quiet projection, the little ball of light tucking itself even further into him. <em>Sleepy.</em></p><p>Huffing out a quiet laugh, Vader projected a sense of <em>peace, quiet, rest,</em> and <em>agreement</em> back to Luke, the minute spark trilling softly in contentment as he sunk even deeper into his sleep.</p><p>That was likely the sign for him to back away and return his awareness to the operating table he was currently situated on, but…</p><p>He sighed as he quietly brushed against Luke's gentle Force signature.</p><p>But truthfully, he didn’t <em>want</em> to. Not when it would mean having to untangle himself from this. This quiet peace that was as foreign as it was welcome, simply basking in the presence of the one being who, inexplicably, seemed to welcome his presence for as long as it was allowed.</p><p>Projecting a sense of reassurance and warmth towards Luke's signature as gently as he could, he reluctantly unwound himself from the slumbering child, letting the Force presence slip through his grasp and into the wider, colder world once again. The wistful regret that welled up inside of him at the action was squashed down with ruthless efficiency and he instead shifted his focus towards managing the returning presence of pain.</p><p>Opening his eyes, he blinked as he took in the red film that once more colored his perception of the world, and was pleased to note that he only registered the brief, burning sting of the medical laser fusing his flesh together.</p><p>‘Are you quite done yet, Kix?’ he rasped out towards the unseen Medic, observing the man in the Force instead, his throat feeling rougher and drier than usual with all that had happened and the hours of lack of activity for his physical being.</p><p>‘<em>Ne’johaa,</em>’ <a id="back7" name="back7"></a><a href="#note7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> Kix muttered. ‘Conserve your energy, sir, you’ll need it, seeing as you pulled out of meditation <em>again</em> in the middle of surgery. Keep the skin steady, Ellipse,’ he instructed his assistant, another <em>vod</em>. ‘Though at least you went back under this time,’ he said, directing his attention back to Vader.</p><p>‘I did not return to my meditation,’ he denied, highly aware of the small speck of light not far from him.</p><p>Kix hummed thoughtfully as another series of rapid flashes of pain signified the addition of another line of fuse stitches. ‘Well, whatever it was, sir,’ he muttered, ‘It was damn effective. If you could make it a habit in the future, we might have an easier time of it.’</p><p>‘Unlikely,’ he dismissed. ‘The circumstance that facilitated it are not ones I wish to recreate.’</p><p>‘Pity,’ Kix grumbled mutinously, alongside another five flashes of pain. ‘But somehow I’m not surprised.’</p><p>Refusing to dignify that statement with an answer, Vader instead focused on inspecting Kix’s results, scanning his own body with a couple of pulses from the Dark. The alterations quickly revealed themselves as he noted that his leg prostheses had been realigned with his femurs, and their attachment ports re-fused with his flesh. <em>Decent,</em> he thought as he noted down the adjustments.</p><p>The other immediately obvious things that he could sense were that his prostheses had once more had several components replaced. Several tubes had been reconnected to their internal ports and his voice box had been adjusted. <em>Satisfactory,</em> he concluded.</p><p>Seven more stings of pain, and he heard Kix breathe a sigh of relief as he stepped back.</p><p>‘Alright, Ellipse, that’s all of ‘em,’ the Medic said. Vader heard rustling and snapping as various disposable hygienic items, such as soft pads of medical gauze and cold mists of bacta sprays, were applied where necessary with quick and precise movements. When at last the final tuck and snip signaled that the operation was well and truly over, the Medics stepped away from the operating table.</p><p>Sitting up with some subtle help from the Dark, Vader tested the range of mobility in his freshly repaired body, turning to the Medics when he deemed all to be well within operational parameters.</p><p>Kix was tapping away at the terminal next to him when he glanced up at him, lips pursed in displeasure and the Force flashing with disapproval as he pronounced his judgement. ‘You’re… cleared, sir,’ Kix told him, reluctance obvious. ‘Or as cleared as you can be with those systems.’</p><p>Not this again. ‘I have told you before, Kix,’ he rumbled out, irritation skirting along the edges of his tone. ‘This is what is given and what is allowed. There will be nothing else.’</p><p>Kix gave him a long look before closing his eyes and nodding with a sigh, resignation humming low around him. ‘Just… try to take it easy, sir,’ he pleaded, a request they both knew he would only follow as long as it was convenient. The Medic had long since given up on attempting to enforce bedrest.</p><p>Still, the illusion was comforting in its familiarity. ‘As you say, Medic Kix,’ he agreed with a dip of his head, and offered the gesture again to the other clone Medic that was present. ‘And my gratitude to you as well, Medic Ellipse.’</p><p>The quiet clone simply nodded his head as looked up from his own datapad. ‘Keep safe, sir,’ was all he said before he turned back to his work, only the small blooming of satisfaction indicating that the man had registered his words. The usual interaction.</p><p>He directed his attention back to Kix. ‘Anything else I must be aware of, Kix?’</p><p>The Medic hummed low in his throat as he gave the screen a thoughtful look. ‘Yes. Engineer Lars was given the necessary surgery to prepare him for full bacta immersion four hours ago and has been in the tank ever since,’ Kix informed him. ‘According to them, he’s progressing along much faster and cleaner than anticipated, even according to their best estimates and when the grade of bacta was considered. At this rate, his session will be complete within the next six hours when he makes a close to full recovery.’</p><p>A great wave of relief swept the drowning waters of concern out from under him. For all that he should find himself ashamed of such weakness, the news that Luke would not be left in a state like his own lifted too great a weight off his shoulders to bother. The child would be fine, or as fine as one could be, considering—</p><p>The wave rolled back in and crashed down hard, and with it, reality followed as well.</p><p>‘And what of his arm?’ he inquired hollowly, his own arm aching in empathetic phantom pain at the mention, something which he suppressed with a dismissive pulse of the Dark. Now was not the time.</p><p>Kix looked up from his screen with a saddened face and sympathetic eyes, a quiet, understated grief radiating off of him. ‘There is… nothing to be done, sir,’ he informed him quietly. ‘A follow up surgery will have to be scheduled to install neural-connection ports if that’s what he wants, but otherwise…’ he trailed off, the Force echoing his inner turmoil.</p><p>‘…He will simply have to learn to live with it,’ Vader finished the thought, resignation bitter in his throat.</p><p>Kix shot him a look that perfectly echoed his own sentiment, but dipped his head in a reluctant nod. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Kix muttered quietly. ‘But there is truly nothing else to be done.’</p><p><em>There never was,</em> Vader thought bitterly. Regardless of who or what, there was never more that could be done, and it was always too late for anything else. Too late for him, too late for <em>her</em>, too late for Luke—</p><p>‘If it helps at all, sir,’ Kix said, quietly interrupting his train of thought. ‘Thanks to the short time period between the injury and medical attention becoming available, they were able to save a good deal of tissue that would have otherwise been lost. He was able to keep his elbow and part of his forearm thanks to timely intervention.’</p><p>It didn’t help. But at the very least it might, somehow, help Luke.</p><p>Standing up from the operating table, he took stock of what would need to be done to the rest of his systems before he was once again fully operational. The majority of his suit was in tatters, either as the result of the rough treatment he had subjected it to, or because of where the Medics had cut into it to reach his organic parts. That would need to be replaced. His mantle as well, as he could guess it had been disposed of as a biohazard due—</p><p>‘Sir?’</p><p>He looked up and met Kix’s eyes, the Medic’s mouth quirking up at the corner in the smallest of smiles. ‘He’s in bacta tank four.’</p><p>Inclining his head in gratitude towards Kix, he quickly made his way to the adjacent room that held one of two hyperbaric chambers on the ship and replacements for his components and suit. Perhaps it would be seen as a frivolity to have a dedicated operating room and “recovery ward” for just one person, but with the frequency that his components needed replacing and his systems needed maintenance, well, it ironically made for an overall time and resource saving solution that wouldn’t have him occupy the time and space needed for anyone else.</p><p>Something which he had never been as grateful for as he was now, knowing that Luke had been able to receive treatment even while he had been incapacitated and in maintenance.</p><p>Flaring out his senses within the Force, he ordered the hyperbaric chamber to open, which it obliged to with a hiss of hermetic seals releasing. The two halves separated like the maw of a grand beast and he stepped through the teeth without hesitation. The halves closed, and with the locking of the seals and a rush of oxygenated air, he was once more in his own private sphere of silence.</p><p>With practiced movements and liberal use of the Dark, he sent the mechanisms to help him with his systems and suit into motion. Robotic arms helped him replace the damaged remnants of his components with haste, stripping away the ruined armor and life-support systems and exchanging them for new components.</p><p>The process, familiar as it was, progressed at a smooth, if tedious pace. By the time he fastened his mantle under his collar and had readied himself for the replacement of his helmet, he was thoroughly irate with the wearisome procedure that was keeping him from his intended destination.</p><p>The mask and helmet clicked back in place with a hiss, and when he felt the needles of the neural-connectors puncture his scalp with sharp pinpricks of pain once more, it was a relief to regain his HUD and see all gauges declare him once more fit for action.</p><p>Unlocking the chamber with a careless wave, he hardly waited for the interlocking teeth of the sphere to separate far enough to squeeze through them. He had somewhere important to be.</p><p>Stalking out of the room with long strides, Vader mentally mapped out his route to the bacta chambers. Tank four… With that number, it would have to be located in bacta chamber Aurek. Altering his route to suit this new information, he swept through the halls of the medical wing, the Dark billowing around him like ink dripped into water. It hissed and snarled and whimpered as it lashed around him like an injured wild animal, intangible without his guidance, but enough of a presence to make the medical personnel in the hallways press themselves flat to the walls in an attempt to evade his notice.</p><p>The hallways were drenched in their fearful wariness, but he paid them no mind. They weren’t important compared to, couldn’t even hold a <em>candle</em> to who he was looking for. They couldn’t even stand to look at him without fear shivering through them, while a young star possessed enough courage and kindness to not only bound up to him with all the fearlessness of someone who the world wouldn’t—<em>couldn’t</em>—break, but to look at him with such warmth as well.</p><p>The Dark crooned in agreement as together they stalked through the long corridors lined with doors, honing in on the candle flame that flickered through the haze of hundreds of thousands of other souls. He snarled at it within his mind, warning it off of Luke. It hardly mattered that it had acted utterly out of character around the child hours earlier; he knew the fickleness of its nature. He didn’t trust it within arm’s length of Luke.</p><p>Unfortunately, he also didn’t have a choice.</p><p>It laughed at him in a voice that it couldn’t make heard outside of those brief encounters in deep meditation, and Vader glared at the empty hallway in response before catching himself. Rolling his eyes, he shifted his focus away from the Dark that was seeping into the cracks of his mind once more, and towards the ever-present guiding light at the edge of his awareness, bringing it to the forefront of his thoughts.</p><p>Peace, warmth, and a restful stillness permeated a mind deeply asleep, only occasionally interspersed with brief flashes of confusion as he clumsily reached and called out for a presence that was no longer with him. Like a blind and newborn pup searching for the warmth of its parent, Luke's signature fumbled around gracelessly, little pings of a questing search tapping against Vader's shields. And for all that the child was the utter antithesis of him, he let his shields down enough to welcome back the sole shining star against his own lightless night sky.</p><p>His mouth twitched around the respirator in amusement as the Force signature chirped with happiness, Luke nuzzling back into his own, ever-shifting signature, as the inky blackness of his deepest self obligingly shifted into something of a makeshift nest, the Dark humming with contentment and a sense of <em>right</em> even as he drew the little star out of its reach<em>. </em>Cradling the child closer to him, he sighed softly.</p><p>There was no world in which he could truly delude himself into believing this would last, but in an unexpected and thoroughly loathsome result of the child’s influence on him, he couldn’t stop himself from <em>hoping</em> it would.</p><p>Curling himself tightly around the softly humming form cradled within him, Vader set a quick pace for the rest of the trip to the bacta chamber, needing to see the child in the flesh. Needing to see he was alright.</p><p>He swept through the halls of the medial wing like the specter so many believed him to be, and at last, the looming doors of the bacta chamber dawned on him, emblazoned with an equally large aurek. Reaching out with the Dark, they hissed as the pneumatic lock disengaged and slid open.</p><p>Stepping into the chamber beyond, he glanced around the room. Great tanks of bacta lined the walkway of the room, holding a supply fit for the greatest warship the galaxy had ever known. Various grades of quality were present and being propagated within the bubbling vats, and striding quickly past all of them, he headed straight for the tank rooms, Luke's signature so close that he could almost swear he was looking at an actual star. Room one, room two, room three—</p><p>Room four.</p><p>The door slid open with a hiss and it was only distantly that he realized it was because he had reached out with the Dark. None of that mattered once his eyes rested on the diminutive figure floating within the tank located in the room.</p><p>Legs still awkward and ungainly from the recent surgery, he stumbled forward as if drawn into orbit, barely registering the doors sliding closed behind him, and before he knew it his mask was nearly pressed against the clear plastisteel of the tank without any recollection of how he got there.</p><p>He drank in the sight in front of him, scanning the child with a frantic fervor as he looked for any indication that might give him any better bearing on what the state of his wellbeing was.</p><p>Paler than ever under the bright lights of the bacta tank, Luke looked almost translucent within the bubbling liquid, and clad only in a loose pair of white briefs to protect his modesty, it was easy to take stock of any remaining injuries. Taking anxious note of the burns still littering Luke's skin, Vader was nonetheless relieved to see that the skin was no longer a crackled, burnt black, but a color that he would estimate as a dark pink going by the shade of red his lenses colored the wound.</p><p>Luke's chest rose and fell with rhythmic regularity, the bacta around his nose and mouth swirling and spiraling as the child steadily breathed the highly oxygenated liquid in and out. IVs and tubes were taped along the sides of his body to prevent them from tangling as they floated freely in the tank, and his eyelids fluttered in time with quiet pulses of awareness in the Force that washed over Vader like a warm breeze. He soothed Luke's signature back down into a state of restful stillness, and watched in gratitude as the child’s face went slack with sleep once more. Waking up during a bacta immersion and feeling like he was drowning was the last thing he wished upon this little beacon of light.</p><p>Reassured that Luke was once more in a deep state of unconsciousness, he swept his eyes over the injuries littering the small (so incredibly <em>small</em>) body, his eyes invariably drawn to the most grievous of them all, even as he wanted to pretend that it wasn’t reality.</p><p>But reality wouldn’t be ignored, and the thin layer of shiny skin stretched over the stump where the rest of the forearm should’ve been was enough to drive that point home. Somewhere between his throat and the vocoder a pained whimper was lost as his gaze fell onto the slowly healing wound that would never truly heal. Not really. Not when something like that was lost.</p><p><em>Oh Luke,</em> he lamented quietly, already dreading the moment that the child would be woken up out of his anesthetized sleep. The shock of losing one’s limb was never one that should have been Luke's to experience, especially not on a spaceship so far removed from all that they knew as home and with only a pathetic monster to keep him company. (<em>Because no one else would dare go near while you are there,</em> a little voice hissed, but he’s never not been selfish and it was easily dismissed with only minimally destruction of the pitiful remains of what passed for his soul.)</p><p>But there was nothing to be done unless they wished to keep Luke in a permanent coma, ignorant of what had happened to him, and that mere thought was horrifying enough to make him physically flinch.</p><p>The little star, still laying within a nest made of his heart, trilled softly in concern, Luke's face within the tank frowning minutely in synchronicity, and it took him a second to realize that the child was picking up on <em>his</em> discomfort, even while unconscious. He soothed the minor distress with a silent nudge of reassurance, and didn’t even have to feign a sense of contentment when Luke once more huddled down into his own hollow within Vader's traitor heart and his face within the tank settled into a gentle rest.</p><p>Lifting up a hand to rest it against the plastisteel of the tank, he resolved to not cause Luke any more distress than he would already have to experience in the immediate future, foreign though it may be for him to deliberately attempt to temper himself for another’s benefit. Unfamiliar, perhaps, but as he once more opened his Eyes to the Force and saw Luke's minute Force signature unfold itself in front of him in all its glory, he doubted it would be difficult.</p><p>Not with his little guiding star right here in front of him.</p><p>Shimmering in iridescent light like no amount of high-grade bacta could ever hope to hold a candle to, Luke shone within the Force like near-baseline sensitives so rarely did.</p><p><em>Impossible</em> child, he thought fondly as he smiled against the respirator, its edges cutting into the corners of his mouth. But the pain was so easily dismissed in favor of simply looking at this wonderous, baffling, utterly improbably <em>impossible</em> child.</p><p>And yet, he was here.</p><p>The little star cheeped softly in his sleep, agreement riding along on the note as the Force carried it on. He allowed his eyes to slide shut as he huffed out a sound of amusement, his Eyes wide open, and he knew they were looking with a fondness at the child that even Luke, as deeply asleep as he was, would be able to feel it. Sure enough, purring with contentment and reciprocated sentiment, Luke's signature nudged up closer against his. He sent a rumble of warmth and safety back, curling just a little tighter around the child’s signature.</p><p>He didn’t know how long they spent like that, simply basking in each other’s presence. Luke would sleepily send him muzzy thoughts of any and everything that slipped across his mind—warmth, fondness, affection, and simple, honest happiness over having his company—while he would send back his own as best he could, occasionally soothing the child back into the gentle embrace of sleep and keeping any worries far from his mind. He didn’t know how long, because what did time matter in that moment?</p><p>They simply were, and needed nothing more.</p><p>Then the moment passed, and he felt the intrusion of another Force signature on the edge of his awareness, dimmer and duller than the star still cradled in a nest of void and night, but bright enough to pull his attention away for a moment to see who dared approach, the Dark rumbling in disquiet, awakening from the uncharacteristic silence it had so far kept.</p><p>Reaching out through the Force towards the annoyance, he brushed against it, the pitiful shields rippling with his mere touch like cheap cellophane. Relenting before he actually tore a hole in them with his mere presence, he scrutinized the approaching intruder with a critical eye. They were approaching with purpose, so it wasn’t some hapless Crewmate wandering at the most inopportune moment. Narrowing his Eyes, he looked a bit closer.</p><p>They had begun emanating a steady fear as soon as he had brushed against him, his presence strong enough that even baseline sensitives would be able to pick up on a shift, even if they wouldn’t be able to explain it. But there was a determination and duty there as well, and a determination to—</p><p><em>Medic,</em> he concluded.</p><p>Begrudgingly drawing his presence back into himself, he let them continue their approach without further hassle. Opening his eyes, he took in Luke as he was, ignoring the stumbling presence approaching behind him.</p><p>The doors hissed open behind him, and he heard a breath catch alongside a spike of fear within the Force, both muffled just as quickly as they resolutely pressed forward and a sense of determination reasserted itself within them. Interesting.</p><p>‘My Lord,’ came the expected greeting from behind him, and he turned around to face them.</p><p>‘Medic Ruthgar,’ he acknowledged curtly as he greeted the short man, but he refrained from making any further comment. Let him state his own business.</p><p>Something which the Medic seemed reluctant to do, judging by their fidgeting with their datapad and general shifting around, but they apparently found their resolve regardless. ‘My Lord,’ he began, ‘I— it’s time for Engineer Lars’ examination.’</p><p>What? ‘Already?’ he noted.</p><p>Ruthgar fidgeted as he looked Vader in the eyes. ‘Um, yes, my Lord. It— It’s been six hours.’</p><p>Six hours? Time really had slipped through his fingers with alarming speed if that was true. It hardly mattered though.</p><p>‘Then perform your examination, Medic Ruthgar,’ he rumbled lowly, taking no initiative to remove himself from where he was situated.</p><p>The man’s eyes nervously jolted between him and his patient in the tank behind him, but as something hardened within his eyes, he nodded firmly. ‘I will have to ask you to step back a bit my Lord. My colleagues are on their way here and we will need to move freely around Engineer Lars and the tank.’</p><p>A reasonable request, if one he loathed to acquiesce to. He dismissed the impulse as obstructive to Luke's health and obligingly stepped to the side as the Medic took his place in front of Luke in his stead.</p><p>He cast out a pulse of Dark through the Force, and indeed found that a group of people were warily making their way towards them, a cautious brush against their shields revealing much the same like it had with Ruthgar, and he withdrew as the shields buckled dangerously under his touch, fear permeating the air even as he retreated.</p><p>Keeping his Eyes on the approaching Medics, he turned his gaze back to where Ruthgar had climbed the stairs to the platform surrounding the upperpart of the tank. The med-tech was occupying himself with tapping against various gauges and taking notes of their readings, flipping switches and pressing buttons where he deemed it necessary.</p><p>A quick glance at the Medic’s mind revealed that he was utterly disregarding Vader's presence now, and had fully focused himself on his patient and task with a dedication that was singular. He withdrew from the Medic’s immediate presence, satisfied, and instead resumed his self-assigned task of keeping Luke calm and asleep. It wouldn’t do for him to wake up in the middle of his examination and fly into a panic.</p><p>Bacta submersion may be effective to the point of miracle work, but it was a horrifying experience to be awake and aware during the duration of it. Highly oxygenated liquid or not, the mind was not so easily reassured away from base instincts, and for any species not used to breathing liquids, the patient would experience the sensation of drowning the entire time they were in the submersion.</p><p>Thus, often enough, the only ethical option was to keep the patient anesthetized the whole duration of the treatment.</p><p>It was little wonder that submersion was not in the cards for his own treatment. Even if his Master would authorize it, and he felt weaker just at the thought.</p><p>Shaking off that thought when his morosity began to cause the little star to shift in disquiet, he once more focused on soothing him into a state of deep slumber.</p><p>The other Medics soon reached them and quickly joined Medic Ruthgar in his quiet mutterings after extending the customary respects to Vader, each taking up their own task as they began taking stock of Luke's condition. Within minutes, the regular exchange of information began to shift into incredulous sounds and hissed whispers as they exchanged information between them. The Force shivered with their combined bewilderment and excitement, and after a couple moments of a flurry of too much activity for a routine medical examination, Vader carefully shifted his attention over from a Luke deeply asleep to the wide-awake Medics.</p><p>‘Is there cause for all this excitement?’ he asked, words rumbling over the discreet commotion of the Medics and easily drowning them out.</p><p>Most of them flinched or startled at his words, and he would’ve almost thought that they had forgotten he was present if not for the ambient haze of slight fear still present within the room. Thankfully, the Medics were made of sterner stuff than the average Crewmate of the Lady and they collected their composure quickly enough.</p><p>‘I, uh— apologize, my Lord,’ Medic Ruthgar said with a somewhat nervous dip of his head as he stepped forward. ‘It is simply that, well,’ he hesitated as he glanced back for a split second at the child still floating within the tank, ‘Engineer Lars is… a most peculiar patient,’ he finally confessed.</p><p>That did not sound “simple” in the slightest. ‘Peculiar in what way, Medic Ruthgar?’ he rumbled, tone dangerously low. If they proved to be incompetent enough that they couldn’t properly handle Luke's medical care…</p><p>‘In the way that he reacts in completely unexpected fashion to nearly all medical substances he’s been exposed to, my Lord,’ the Medic answered promptly, frowning as he looked at his datapad, unaware of Vader's train of thought. ‘During surgery, he metabolized any anesthetic administered to him at unexpectedly high speeds, and we had to up the dosage far beyond what was normal for humans within his age range and weight class. Now, however, scans show that there is little to no remaining anesthetic within his system, and yet at the same time they show that Engineer Lars is still within a state of deep unconsciousness.’</p><p>No remaining anesthetic? Vader glanced over at where Luke was still floating within the tank and idly soothed the little star with another pulse of warmth and reassurance. He had some idea of where those results likely came from…</p><p>He waited for Ruthgar to continue his explanation but the man had already once more sunken deep into the data displayed on the screen in front of him, muttering about various chemical compounds that Vader recognized from the experiments preformed on him when there was still some kind of hope for an effective anesthetic for him. For all that he seemed to have finished what little explanation he was willing to give, his colleagues were far from finished.</p><p>Seemingly emboldened by their colleague and unofficial spokesperson’s success, another Medic spoke up from where she was situated on top of the tank. ‘He’s right, my Lord,’ an elderly woman spoke up whom he vaguely recognized as Medic Valent. ‘I can’t speak for the anesthetic—that is my colleague’s department—but Engineer Lars has definitely shown that he has a pretty unusual metabolism.’ She grinned wide as she tapped at one of the gauges in the machinery attached to the tank.</p><p>‘Furthermore,’ Valent continued, ‘His healing has accelerated during his submersion treatment to nearly unprecedented degrees. His injuries were multiple second and third-degree burns over large swaths of his body and yet, with only a ten-hour session, most of them have already healed over the guidance grafts to the point that they’ll only need a topical application of bacta to complete the process,’ she finished, a fascinated gleam within her eyes that had Vader make a mental note to keep a close eye on her. He wouldn’t have her harassing Luke for answers the child might not even be able to give.</p><p>‘His stump has also been showing signs of rapid healing uncommon after a typical traumatic trans-radial amputation,’ another, younger woman chimed in as she circled the tank Luke was situated in, pale eyes focused solely on the stump Vader had so far mostly avoided looking at, their pallor enhanced by the pale medical gray of her headscarf. He didn’t recall ever seeing her before, but made a note to find out soon. If these people were to be Luke's medical team for the foreseeable future, he would require all the information he could gather on them.</p><p>Completely oblivious to his thought process, the young Medic remained focused on the child’s stump and hardly even glanced at him while giving her own report. ‘The muscle tissue looks to have taken extraordinarily well to the procedure, and if my eyes aren’t lying to me, will likely also be stable enough for a second surgery to insert neural-connectors sometime soon. Depending on his choice of prosthesis,’ she added.</p><p>Ruthgar looked up from his datapad and sighed as he nodded in agreement with his colleagues and pulled a hand through his hair. ‘All in all, my Lord, it’s a pretty unusual situation, with an equally unusual patient,’ he finished.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>‘I believe I can explain at least one of those phenomena, Medic Ruthgar,’ he offered before he could think any better of it. His Master would likely express his utter displeasure with him if he ever found out that he had divulged any information about the Force to “mere” baseline sensitives and his skin already began twitching with remembered pain, his nerves weakening as the Dark hissed, but if it could aid them in their treatment of Luke… so be it.</p><p>Ruthgar, for his part, immediately stopped looking at his datapad as his eyes snapped up to Vader, his mind visibly latching on to the possibility of an explanation within the Force. ‘You do, my Lord?’</p><p>‘How much do you understand of the Force, Medic Ruthgar?’ he asked as he crossed his arms, letting his full presence spread throughout the room in a manner that he knew not even a baseline sensitive would be able to ignore. The other Medics froze at their stations and for a moment no one in the room but he and Luke seemed to even breathe.</p><p>‘I—’ Ruthgar swallowed as he tried to keep his gaze level with that of Vader's, but ended up averting it somewhere to the side. ‘I know little to nothing, my Lord,’ he admitted, the Force ringing with truth. ‘But how does it tie in to—?'</p><p>‘I am the one who has been keeping Engineer Lars in a state of sedation,’ he interrupted the blabbering Medic, the man flinching at the sudden sound. ‘Your reports on his metabolic rates correspond with his mind repeatedly drifting back into consciousness, which resulted in a need to bring him back to sleep.’ He looked over at the tank where Luke's face was once more pulled into a minor frown, the little star stirring briefly before allowing himself to be pacified back into a deep sleep. ‘Even now I am keeping his consciousness from awakening prematurely,’ he informed the Medic, allowing his own signature to curl just a little tighter around the drowsily chirruping beacon of light while the man’s gaze switched back and forth between him and Luke, wide-eyed and gawking.</p><p>Ruthgar opened his mouth once, twice, thrice, before seemingly realizing that he had yet to produce a sound. ‘I— I see, my Lord,’ he stammered out. ‘And… Engineer Lars is in no kind of distress?’</p><p>The mere insinuation that he would ever place Luke under any suffering was an insult in and of itself, but one he could, unfortunately, empathize with. He was as far from anyone’s idea of a proper healer as Tatooine was from the Core.</p><p>‘He is not,’ he informed the Medic curtly.</p><p>Ruthgar nodded absently as he looked at the child still floating in the tank. ‘I… see,’ he murmured, a contemplative look on his face as he quickly glanced between his datapad and Luke. For a moment, nothing could be heard in the room but the bubbling of the bacta, the whirring of the machines, and the cycling of his respirator. Then Valent spoke up.</p><p>‘He’ll need to stay under if we’re gonna get him out of this stuff, Klo,’ she reminded Ruthgar quietly. ‘At least until after the transition back to air-breathing is complete. Or he might just go into shock.’</p><p>‘I know, I know,’ Ruthgar replied pensively, still looking at his datapad. ‘But—’</p><p>Tired of their inane chatter that was progressing exactly nothing, Vader chose that moment to speak up. ‘If it is a matter of time that is your concern,’ he interrupted lowly, the room at large preforming their near-customary flinch at his voice again, ‘Then it is a non-issue. I can keep Engineer Lars sedated for as long as necessary.’</p><p>Ruthgar’s head swiveled around to face him, eyes wide. ‘Really!? You’re sure, my—’</p><p>‘Yes,’ he cut in flatly. ‘Proceed as you must, I will ensure the Engineer continues his slumber.’ With that, he turned away from the Medic, angling his body fully towards Luke.</p><p>A beat of silence reigned, abruptly underscored by a sharp clap as Valent brought her hands together. ‘Alright, people! You heard his Lordship! Ruthgar, I completed my examination, the burns are looking good, and aside from some residual sensitivity they shouldn’t trouble him. He’s ready to transfer in my books. How about you, Pelli?’ she asked, question directed to the younger Medic.</p><p>‘The stump looks like it won’t need any further full-submersion treatment to complete the healing process,’ she answered promptly, squinting her eyes at the limb in question. ‘I would advise the continued use of bacta patches for the next few days just to be sure, but continued submersion would just be overkill.’ She looked up to the others and nodded. ‘He’s ready to be taken out.’</p><p>Ruthgar sighed and closed his eyes. ‘And it seems my role has been rendered rather obsolete in the moment,’ he muttered with a wry smile. ‘All agreed to call the rest of the team to get Engineer Lars out of the tank then?’</p><p>‘Just call the team, Klo,’ Valent said with a roll of her eyes.</p><p>Ruthgar shot her a glare but dutifully placed the call. Arrangements were made over the comm, but Vader ignored them in favor of directing his focus back to Luke. Luke, still so pale under the bright lights of the tank, looked smaller than he ever had. His heart clenched painfully when his gaze landed on the reminder that this child would live the rest of his life without a limb that should’ve still been there.</p><p>Luke's signature shifted against his own, the chirruping pitching into cheeping as sparks of concern welled up inside of his little star and pinged against his own signature. Abruptly letting go of his previous thought, he occupied himself with soothing down the ruffled feathers of light into a smooth mother-of-pearl sheen once more.</p><p>The Force outside of their bubble of privacy lit up with the arrival of the rest of the Medic team—a group of humans and droids who all halted in the door nearly in perfect synchronicity once they laid eyes on him—but he ignored them all beyond the bare acknowledgements. As long as they did their jobs, he had no need to interact with them.</p><p>Watching their activities with distant interest, he kept his attention on Luke. While the droids and two human men prepared the rigging to lift Luke out of the bacta, the rest prepared a specialized stretcher riddled with equipment that would help the child expel the healing liquid from his lungs. <em>Another thing for which it would be better for Luke to remain unconscious,</em> he thought, as he stroked a tendril of Dark along the little star’s back, receiving contented sparks in return for his efforts.</p><p>The stretcher was quickly hovered up to the upper platform and locked into place, the final preparations made before the Medics seemed to come to an agreement that all was ready. The seal on the cover of the tank broke with a hiss as the build-up of oxygen and steam from the liquid within escaped into the wider room, the cover rolling to the side as two of the Medics reached in for the supports holding Luke up, hooked into the sides of the tank.</p><p>Once the rigging began to be pulled up, however, small blips of distress began to register with him, Luke's presence shifting more than ever before. It grew worse the more the support straps slung under his arms and around his waist pulled upwards, the soft but rigid fabric digging into the skin. That wouldn’t do.</p><p>Soothing down Luke's distress with calming pulsed that urged him to resume his sleep, he carefully called on the Dark, extending it to wrap all around Luke's physical body like he had directed his mantle to do so not so very long ago. The Dark obliged easily, humming in contentment as it enveloped Luke in a heavy embrace. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he directed it to begin lifting the child out of the tank, taking the weight off of the rigging.</p><p>Startled sounds of surprise and alarm sounded from the Medics atop the platform as the rigging went slack under the lack of weight, but the sounds abruptly silenced themselves once they realized Luke was not sinking back into the tank, but rising up to meet them.</p><p>He could feel more than one disbelieving look being thrown his way as the Medics one-by-one realized what was occurring as Luke floated out of the tank, bacta sluicing off of him in viscous, dripping strands. Fortunately for them, their professionalism quickly overrode any bafflement at his actions they may have experienced, as they rapidly took to guiding Luke's floating with swift and precise hands. A nudge here, a press there, he allowed them to direct the floating as needed, leveling out Luke horizontally above the hover stretcher while softly rumbling reassurances to the confused peeping of the little one still curled up in his heart’s hollow.</p><p>The Dark crooned in tune with his own rumblings, winding around Luke's sluggish and confused mind with a gentle care he hadn’t know was even something that came naturally to it. It wrapped around Luke's shivering form as the air began to cool down the warm liquid, and fire shot through the void of the Dark, pulsing with warmth. Vader blinked at the unnatural and peculiar sight, but refused to question the good fortune that had led Luke to being shielded from the Dark’s usual cruelty.</p><p>The shivering abated and as he rumbled softly to the sleeping little star within the Force, he lowered the child’s body fully onto the stretcher, only unwinding his grip when the Medics began to unhook the rigging around him.</p><p>A soft, burbling sound was groaned out into the room, and to both Vader’s relief and alarm, Luke began to sluggishly spit up large mouthfuls of the viscous liquid in a horrifying sight that nonetheless meant that the child was healing. Something that he had to repeat to himself whenever Luke whimpered out a soft sound in concert with another prickling of distress from his signature, more bacta spilling over his lips and dripping down the sides of his face as his chest heaved with the effort of expelling the thick liquid from his lungs.</p><p>He attempted to soothe the child’s distress while the Medics sped into action, but his own anxiety became more difficult to suppress with every choking sound Luke coughed out. Various tubes were unwound with all due haste and the attached machinery whirred to life with a loud, droning buzz as it began sucking the excess bacta from Luke's mouth, the thin tube slowly easing down his throat and into his lungs.</p><p>The distressed chirrups from the little star heightened into whines, and Luke's signature began to noticeably shift and struggle under Vader's efforts to keep him subdued and asleep. Thankfully, the little one was hardly a match for himself, and he merely had to increase his presence by a touch to pin the little one down into a deep sleep with barely an effort. The demands of that action on the remnants of his tattered heart were another matter altogether as Luke's signature managed one last squeak in protest before sinking back into full unconsciousness. He just hoped that the little star would allow himself to remain distracted with gentle platitudes for a bit longer after this was through.</p><p>Doubling down on his efforts of rumbling and nudging reassurances to the small beacon of iridescent light, he watched in frustrated helplessness as the Medics fed one, two, three tubes into Luke's mouth, the machines they were attached to whirring loudly enough that they had to significantly raise their voices to be heard over them.</p><p>Sickening gurgling and squelching sounds emanated from the stretcher, and everything dripped with excess bacta until even the Medics themselves looked like they had just been pulled out of a submersion session themselves, a frantic haste in the Force marking the urgency of this procedure. Thankfully, their skill and experience showed itself in their efficiency, and a weight fell off of his shoulder when, not long after Luke's breathing began to notably ease, the sounds from the stretcher were replaced with the rushing of air instead of the spilling of bacta.</p><p>The frantic air within the Force eased, and the Medics movements lost their sharpness and abrupt nature, calming into something that set Vader's nerves less on end as they began running their scans to check the levels of fluid remaining in Luke’s lungs. When, at last, the all-clear was given, the machines were shut off and the tubes were extracted with quick, practiced movements.</p><p>When the last tube slipped free from Luke's mouth and the only remaining sound was a ragged, but clear breathing pattern, Vader couldn’t help the small sound that escaped him and was thankful that the vocoder didn’t pick it up. Easing himself off of Luke's signature that he had kept pinned until now, he nearly sobbed in relief as his little star merely hummed in sleepy confusion that was easily placated by a nudge of warmth and affection.</p><p>It was over. Thank the Force and the Dark, it was <em>over.</em></p><p>The little star, utterly unaware of the world around him, simply turned over in his nest of heartstrings and huddled down further into their shelter of void and darkness, once more purring contently with sleep and warmth. Affection and a warm, overwhelming feeling of something he dared not name washed over Vader and he suppressed the ridiculous urge to laugh in relief as he wound tight around the little beacon, a mockery of an embrace that nonetheless had his little star squeaking with joy and muzzily pressing back.</p><p>Beautiful, wonderous, <em>impossible</em> child.</p><p>He was only shaken out of his wondering reverie with the snapping sound of fabric being rapidly unfurled, a Medic shaking out a large towel and gently began to dab away at the bacta still clinging to Luke's skin in a tacky film. Others began carefully extracting various now-unneeded tubes and IVs from Luke's body, peeling away the medical tape that kept them secured to the child’s sides. Before long, the hover stretcher had come down from the platform and was being prepared for transport to the recovery ward.</p><p>He strode over to the stretcher and ignored the slight flinches and wary looks cast his way by the Medics. He would not leave Luke's side for a moment longer than necessary. Not until the child was once more awake and alert enough to tell him to leave himself.</p><p>A detached part of him registered one of the Medics informing him of the remaining procedure ahead. Luke would be subjected to several scans, tests, and other examinations to complete their knowledge of his condition, a plan would be made on further treatment, and after a sonic shower and a change of clothes, he would likely be brought to the recovery ward for recuperation and the remainder of his treatment until cleared. There was a question too if he could keep Luke under until such a time that he would be transferred to the recovery ward, and when he gave a curt, confirmatory answer, they duly left him to his vigil at Luke's side while they prepared the stretcher for transport.</p><p>Finally getting a good, unobstructed view of the child, he noticed that even if the procedure had truly been for the better in healing Luke of his injuries, it also made him look utterly pitiable. Still completely soaked in bacta despite the Medic’s best efforts with the towel and shivering against the cold, the child looked like he had been in a fight with a morodin and lost miserably.</p><p>Wrapping the Dark around the little star once more, he sent pulses of warmth to alleviate the discomfort, chest swelling with gratification when the shivering slowly abated and Luke finally relaxed fully against the stretcher. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do until they could get the child into more suitable circumstances.</p><p>For now, there were medical procedures that needed to be done, and somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, an idea of metal and mineral took hold in the shape of an arm, like it had so many times in a lifetime ago. There was work to do, much of it, but for now, none of that mattered.</p><p>For now, all that mattered, was that Luke was safe and warm.</p><p>And that a little star was chirping contently of affection and dreams within his heart.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
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<a id="note7" name="note7"></a>[7] <em>Ne’johaa:</em> a mando’a phrase that translates as “Shut up.” <sup><a href="#back7">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaaand we're back on our regular schedule! Next update is on this Sunday, as usual! I wish you all a very happy 2021, and hope you'll have a good one of it. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Betray You Out Of Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The investigation into the accident begins, and a discovery is made that will drastically change its course. </p><p>Let the hunt begin.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are then! It's been A Week for many of us, huh? Well, it's been one for me and my team as well, so apologies if this chapter is of a lower standard than you're used to, but we had to scramble to make up the time after getting roundhouse kicked by international news several times this week.</p><p>There's no warnings for this chapter as far as I can tell beyond the usual miasma of horror that our poor Captain Piett carries with him as he tries to deal with the Skywalkers, so enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Firmus Piett was not having a good day.</p><p>Aside from the fact that he still had a mild headache from yesterday’s fiasco, he hadn’t dared drink more than four fingers of the whiskey he kept stashed in his quarters. Unfortunately, this was not enough to even <em>begin</em> to drown his sorrows or frustrations regarding the whole mess.</p><p>One-hundred and sixty-four Crewmates had been injured yesterday in Lord Vader's rampage, with everything from only mild bruises and cuts, to cracked ribs, concussions, and gashes from flying debris. More than one had been in a state of hysterics after witnessing Lord Vader's wrath, and while Piett hoped that the crew of the Lady would generally be above panicking at the first disturbance, the fact remained that Lord Vader would always be in a league of his own when it came to causing havoc and disruption.</p><p>He sighed. There were silver linings though, and thank the Force for that, or Piett wasn’t sure how much worse his headache would’ve been. Reports had come in that morning and while the psychological effect of the rampage would last for some time yet, the physical effects could likely at least be mitigated to an extent that Piett hadn’t dared hope for.</p><p>One-hundred and forty-three of the injured Crewmates would be able to return to work either today or within the next two days. The remaining twenty-one would likely be declared fit for duty again within the next twelve. The damage reports were somewhat more worrisome, but it seemed that in his haste, Lord Vader had largely chosen the path of least resistance and hadn’t been interested in expending any more effort in his destruction than he deemed absolutely necessary.</p><p>Out of the twenty-four doors ruined—not counting the grand gates—only three had sustained substantial structural damage to their frames, and the damage done to the elevator shaft after his Lordship had jumped down it had been more superficial than anything else. In fact, the Engineers had recommended leaving the gashes along the walls of the elevator shaft as-is instead of wasting resources on patching up something that wasn’t doing any harm in the first place. There were more pressing issues those resources could be used on, after all. Like the grand gates.</p><p>Piett grumbled as he pulled up the damage report in question on his datapad. While the rest of the issues could largely be addressed within the next few days or weeks, those gates were something else entirely. Custom-made for the Lady, there were no others of their type in existence yet and would consequently have to be either ordered special made and delivered in the next closest supply shipment or—</p><p>He frowned at the recommendations given by Engineer Lyvon, who was now acting as Head Engineer while Lars was indisposed. “Preferably left to Engineer Lars’ discretion upon his recovery.”</p><p>He pressed his lips into a thin line as he contemplated the suggestion. He could either dismiss the suggestion and start a month-long process of tedious and paperwork-filled bureaucracy during which the incident that led to the destruction of the gates would likely become public when the story was eventually leaked or…</p><p>Or they could hope that Lars would be able to work one more miracle and be able to handle situation upon his recovery in a manner that would, somehow, avert disaster and prevent the whole situation from escalating to a ridiculous degree. A choice he would normally not even think twice over, but to foist this entire disaster on a young man who would just be coming back out of medical with one lesser limb and likely a whole load of fresh trauma… it left a bad taste in his mouth.</p><p>Contemplating his various options, he was only shaken out of his reverie when the elevator chimed with the arrival at his chosen floor. Stowing his train of thought away for later, Piett looked up just in time to see the doors slide open to reveal the entrance hall to the Officer’s lounge.</p><p>Right. Breakfast first, potentially life-ruining decisions later. Not even counting the investigation he would have to conduct later on at the epicenter of the disaster.</p><p>Tucking his datapad into the crook of his arm, he exited the elevator and headed for the entrance, the familiar arching doorway to the lounge for the upper brass of the Lady a welcome sight with the day he still had ahead of him. He needed a proper breakfast to wake him up anyway.</p><p>Ambling past security, he stepped into the arching space, ever so reminiscent of a restaurant rather than an Officers’ mess aboard an active warship, one of the comforts afforded by the prominence and size of the Lady.</p><p>Everything from the navy-blue carpet and redwood floors to the royal blue and bronze accented curtains in front of the floor-to-ceiling viewports exuded a sense of luxury that still struck him as somewhat odd after all the matte metallics and plastics of his previous assignments. However, he couldn’t deny that there wasn’t a certain appeal to the relatively quiet and calm lounge, especially when it was likely the one moment in the day you would get that was in any way peaceful.</p><p>Especially on a day like today.</p><p>Humming thoughtfully to himself, he looked for a free table amid the din of chatter of easy conversations and camaraderie amongst the Officers of the Lady, carried out over food and drink. Later today, most of these individuals would once more be part of the competitive and cutthroat culture amongst the Officers on the massive warship, each one of them striving to be the one promoted instead of ending up on a slab in the morgue. Some of them willing to strive for it at another’s expense, if need be.</p><p>But not in the lounge.</p><p>Here, all feuds and competitions were temporarily put on hold to allow everyone a quiet meal and good company.</p><p>Finding a free table at one of the viewports in the back, Piett took a seat and notified the waiters bustling around of his presence with a wave. Glancing around at the Officers socializing and discussing various matters within the lounge, he took the time to appreciate how much the atmosphere had lightened over the last few months.</p><p>Before, you were never quite sure who amongst the diners would be still present to eat at the next meal and who would’ve had their last. But as with so many things, that seemingly-fixed fact of life had started to change over the last few months with the arrival of one special young man. Even now, the day after Lord Vader had effectively rattled the whole crew with a terrifying display of careless power, the atmosphere still wasn’t as tense as it had been on the best of days before Lars’ arrival.</p><p>Shifting his gaze over to watch the stars drift by, his thoughts drifted with them, back to the events of yesterday that had resulted in his unusual duties for the day.</p><p>Lars had been injured, and whatever had injured him had done so to the extent that all he could remember seeing was the young man—a boy, really—had been laid out on the medical stretcher, burnt and bloody with his right arm nothing more than a tattered mess beyond the elbow. What in the world had happened to make that happen?</p><p>He was startled out of his thoughts when a waiter came up to his table. Facing the man, he quickly exchanged his troubled expression for a more genial look. One that was returned easily by the light-haired man he quickly recalled as Ríttan.</p><p>‘Captain Piett, sir,’ he greeted easily as he took up a miniature datapad. ‘What shall it be? The usual?’</p><p>‘Yes,’ he said with a nod. ‘Thank you.’</p><p>The waiter hummed as he tapped out a series of things on his datapad. ‘So a pot of herbal tea, a bowl of hir’rinn, and a breadbasket with assorted sweet and savory options, correct?’</p><p>Perhaps more food than the average order in the lounge, but he found that with the legwork he did daily, he needed the extra calories or face the alternative of falling flat on the ground halfway through the day. A certain Admiral may get by with just your usual core world fare that was more air than substance and had as little flavor as that implied, but as the one picking up the slack, Piett needed something more substantial.</p><p>Quickly confirming his choices, the waiter finalized the order and with a swift nod, headed off to the next table, their interaction concluded. He would’ve gone back to looking at the stars if he hadn’t caught sight of the distinct shade of military grey from out of the corner of his eye that meant that his morning was about to be a whole lot less quiet.</p><p>Sure enough, looking up revealed the distinct towering and broad stature of one General Veers, who, thanks to said stature, had already spotted him before Piett had even registered his presence and was now making his way over to Piett's table. Looks like the time for quiet contemplation was over.</p><p>‘Firmus,’ he greeted with a nod and a small grin as he approached the table. ‘I see you’re still in one piece after yesterday’s events.’ With that he sat down without waiting for an invite or even acknowledgment. Not that Veers had ever needed those.</p><p>‘Hm, barely,’ he said as he returned the greeting. ‘If the medical team had not arrived at the scene before I did, I doubt that I would be able to say the same.’ That was the wrong thing to say, evidently, as Veers’ grin crashed and burned like one of Lord Vader's TIEs and his face took on a distinctly worried look.</p><p>‘Scene?’ he asked as he slid his chair closer to the table. ‘What are you talking—?’ He abruptly cut himself off as comprehension dawned on his face. ‘Firmus— Firmus are you saying you were <em>there</em> when it all went down!?’ he hissed out as he leant close, and Piett was grateful that he at least had the presence of mind to keep his voice down. If his reaction meant that his involvement with the whole fiasco <em>wasn’t</em> widespread knowledge yet, he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.</p><p>‘From the very beginning,’ he confirmed quietly, mindful of the other Officers around. ‘I was the one who had to order a medical team to the site when Lord Vader first picked up on the occurrence. After that, I mere followed the trail of destruction to the source to see if any further help was needed.’</p><p>Veers reared back at those words. <em>‘Followed?’</em> he asked incredulously. ‘You mean you <em>went after him</em> while he—!? Why—?’ His expression froze within the blink of an eye as something seemed to click into place. ‘Lars,’ he said flatly. ‘The rumors are true about Lars.’ He rubbed a hand over his face that had taken on a distinctly tired look just as quickly as his mood had shifted. ‘Oh Force,’ he muttered quietly in a gesture that explained exactly nothing to Piett.</p><p>Rather done with feeling like he was operating with only half of the information available, Piett crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his friend. ‘I’m getting the feeling that we’re talking past each other,’ he noted pensively, Veers giving him a flat look in return. ‘The usual arrangement?’</p><p>‘Deal,’ Veers agreed, shifting in his chair to face Piett more directly. ‘There’s plenty of rumors circulating at the moment, Firmus, but that’s to be expected. No one’s exactly sure of what happened, and everyone has a different story of what happened, but the elements remain the same. Lord Vader's… rush across the Lady, the injuries of the crew, the destruction, the gates, and that he was headed for the workshop, so everyone’s pretty certain it has to do with Lars as well and there’s mutterings from the Troopers about a full medical team rushing to the workshop as well with an ambulance.’ He grimaced as he said the words. ‘After that, though, the stories fall apart. Some people say Lord Vader flew into a fury and injured Lars, some say Lars was already injured and Lord Vader somehow knew, which is why yesterday occurred. Others say Lars is dead, or even that Lord Vader is dead.’ He shot Piett a wry look. ‘Though oddly enough, no one really seems to believe that one.’</p><p>Piett didn’t even bother to suppress a sardonic laugh. The day Lord Vader died was the day the Empire fell to pieces; he knew that much.</p><p>Veers grinned at his reaction and rested an elbow on the table. ‘Yeah, didn’t think so.’ He did his own cursory glance around the room before leaning in just a bit and lowering his voice. ‘So, care to tell me what in fresh hell is <em>actually</em> going on, Firmus?’</p><p>Ah, right. His end of the arrangement. Veers had given him the rumors and bearings on everyone’s mood, and in exchange he had to give him the facts behind them. It was a simple, mutually-beneficial agreement that they had worked out some years ago to broaden their awareness of any given situation, since as an army General and navy Captain they had access to different information channels. Switching the roles as necessary depending on the situation, it had provided them both a substantial boost to their performance on several occasions. Now to honor it.</p><p>Mirroring Veers’ pose, he quickly made work of laying out the facts, only pausing to thank the waiter that brought him a teapot and cup for his herbal tea, with Veers placing his own order of breakfast. Then it was back to telling the story of yesterday’s events.</p><p>Of how Lord Vader had suddenly snapped into some kind of trance while they had been plotting the continued course for the Lady and mentioned sensing a disturbance. How he had ran—<em>ran</em>—off with barely an order shouted over his shoulder to make arrangements for a team of Medics. How he had concluded from the destination they were ordered to that something had happened to the young Head Engineer and immediately headed off after his superior, following the trail of destruction. And what he had found at the end of it. The destroyed grand gates. The hallway towards the workshop that had looked as if some beast had clawed its way in there. And—</p><p>‘Lars… lost an arm?’ Veers whispered direly, his face as pale as a funeral shroud. ‘Are you <em>sure?’</em></p><p>Piett pursed his lips as he remembered the bloody and charred mess that had been Lars’ arm and nodded once. ‘I can’t think of any Medicine, not even bacta, that could restore what was left of his hand,’ he admitted quietly. ‘Even if the Medics will no doubt do everything within their power, I… don’t think it’s possible to reconstruct wounds that extensive. Not when everything below his forearm was just… gone.’</p><p>Veers’ head jerked into a nod like it was on a string, and he rubbed a hand over his face as he stared down at the table. ‘Holy fucking Force,’ he muttered quietly, and Piett couldn’t help but agree. Lars was… not someone who you could ever even think of having something like this happen to.</p><p>Regardless of the fact that Piett privately thought that there was the distinctive sense of something <em>more</em> lying just skin deep within the young Engineer, he was still just a kind, genuine, and bright young man who never really seemed to be out for trouble, even if <em>trouble</em> always found <em>him</em>. It was naïve and pointless to think of it this way, but… Lars wasn’t the kind of person to be subjected to the traumatic experience of losing a part of himself in that way. He just wasn’t.</p><p>Well. Like he’d already established. That kind of thinking was pointless now.</p><p>‘And you said you’ve been tasked with the investigation?’ Veers asked once he’d regained some of his composure. ‘Why? You’d think that Lord Vader would—’ Then he seemed to realize what he was saying and sheepishly shut his mouth. Unnecessarily, as far as Piett was concerned. The man had an excellent point.</p><p>He hummed in his throat as he mentally recounted the scene taking a sip from his tea before he answered. ‘Honestly, Max?’ he said as he placed his cup back on its saucer. ‘I think it was because I was the closest person at hand not immediately visibly occupied with… everything,’ he finished with a vague gesture. ‘He was… injured himself, and bleeding. The Medics insisted on him allowing a full medical examination as well.’ Though judging from the manner in which Medic Kix had persuaded Lord Vader, he didn’t doubt that it was merely code for “you need medical attention too. Now.”</p><p>‘And he hasn’t been seen since, so it had to have been serious,’ Veers finished the thought with a pensive look. ‘Either that or—’ He cut himself off as his eyes widened minutely with realization.</p><p>‘Or?’ Piett prompted, surprised when Veers quickly glanced around again to see if no one was listening in before looking back at him with a serious expression.</p><p>‘Or,’ Veers continued, ‘He’s still watching over Lars.’</p><p>And Piett wanted to protest that, he really did. There was no rational reasoning for why Lord Vader would choose to waste time merely watching over the young man when there was much work to be done. But.</p><p>But it all made too much sense when he thought about it for more than ten seconds and didn’t immediately dismiss the more dangerous of his thoughts. The thoughts that asked whether it really would be so strange to see Lord Vader stand watch over Lars’ sickbed with the behavior the man had displayed where it concerned Lars. The thoughts that noted how incredibly similar the dark Lord’s mannerisms around Lars were to those of Veers around Zevulon. The thoughts that told him it all looked a lot like—</p><p>‘We should probably drop the subject,’ he told Veers curtly. ‘I still have an investigation to run today, and likely a report to give to his Lordship later on as well. These… aren’t really thoughts I wish to have at the forefront of my mind when doing so.’</p><p>‘Alright,’ Veers agreed easily even as his eyes flashed with realization, before grinning widely. ‘I think that’s your mountain— sorry, <em>food</em> arriving now, anyway.’</p><p>He barely had the time to glare at Veers before he did indeed pick up on the unmistakable scent of hir’rinn; a thick stew filled with baked vegetables, various cuts of bantha meat among which the heart, tongue, and lungs, and enough spices to sting the nose at ten paces. Heaven. And just what he needed before he threw himself into the meatgrinder of the day.</p><p>Veers, however, pulled a face as he watched the waiter carry the bowl of hir’rinn to them, tears visible in the corner of his eyes. ‘Urgh,’ he muttered, raising a hand to partially cover his nose and mouth. ‘Well, there goes my appetite. Force, Firmus, how do you <em>eat</em> this?’</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at his unappreciative breakfast companion while the thanking the waiter as he placed the bowl and breadbasket in front of him. ‘With a spoon, Max.’</p><p>Veers glared at him while squinting his eyes against the peppery odor of the dish and if Piett didn’t know what constituted for food closer to the core, he would’ve thought that his friend was raising overacting to an art form. Breaking off a piece of bread to dip it in the stew, he looked Veers dead in the eyes as the man slid his chair backwards a bit and blinked heavily against the tears gathering steadily in his eyes now.</p><p><em>‘Force,’</em> he coughed as he pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the corners of his eyes. ‘That stuff is <em>strong.</em> Are you sure you didn’t order teargas as a seasoning instead of whatever the hell is supposed to be in that thing?’</p><p>‘Quite certain,’ he replied as he stuffed the piece of bread in his mouth. His palette immediately lit up under all the spices, and for just a moment, he was reminded of simpler times when all he had to worry about was not dying in the next pirate attack and making sure that the majority of his prisoners went through the proper legal processes unhampered by bribes or threats. That, and it cleared the sinuses wonderfully well.</p><p>Veers, meanwhile, seemed to have recovered somewhat from his fit of dramatics, and was looking at Piett's plate with more dread and morbid curiosity in his expression than Piett had ever seen before even the bloodiest of battles. Rubbing a hand over his chin, he glanced up at Piett and gave him a considering look. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘If this is the dish that got switched in the “screaming Admiral Ozzel” incident I wonder how he could’ve ever mistaken it for his own food. Sweet <em>Force.’</em></p><p>Scooping up some baked greens soaked through in stew on his spoon, Piett gave Veers a narrow look. <a id="back8" name="back8"></a>‘That dish in question wasn’t hir’rinn, it was bangkal.’ <a href="#note8"><sup>[8]</sup></a> He sniffed scornfully. ‘And it’s his loss that he couldn’t appreciate it.’</p><p>‘Firmus,’ Veers interjected flatly. ‘The man had <em>blisters</em> on the inside of his mouth and was in the medical wing for three days.’</p><p>Swallowing the spoonful of stew, Piett matched Veers’ look one for one. ‘As I said, it’s his loss that he couldn’t appreciate it. And I got saddled with that tasteless shredded cardboard, so I consider us even.’</p><p>‘You mean toast with beans,’ Veers corrected.</p><p>‘Exactly,’ he agreed easily as he broke off another piece of bread. ‘Tasteless shredded cardboard.’</p><p>The general rolled his eyes at that retort. ‘Come on now, has anyone ever actually agreed with you on that?’</p><p>‘Engineer Lars did,’ he shot back easily, dipping the bread. ‘He was most appreciative of me introducing him to various dishes, and noted that he had had difficulty finding food of similar flavor profile ever since he has come aboard.’</p><p>Veers blinked as his face took on a resigned look. ‘You’re kidding me. The kid <em>likes</em> your bioweapon food!? Actually—’ he added on before Piett could even get a word in edgewise, ‘No. Why am I even surprised. The kid is outer rim too, of course he’d like it,’ he stated as he nodded like he had just figured it all out.</p><p>Piett scowled and jabbed his spoon at Veers. ‘The outer rim is hardly a monolith, Max,’ he reprimanded. ‘We may both hail from it, but our planets of origin are about as far removed from each other as they are from the core.’</p><p>‘And yet, you both clearly have your preference for food that—quite literally—blisters the mouth, in common,’ Veers shot back. ‘That speaks of some kind of kinship, I’d say.’</p><p>He glared as he scooped up another spoon of hir’rinn. ‘If that is the only way you can get your mind around it, then sure, there is at the very least a shared taste for properly seasoned food.’ He darkened his glare a little further. ‘Never mind that the cultures that created them are completely unrelated to one another.’</p><p>Veers finally got the message and Piett relaxed his stance in satisfaction as he watched his friend’s expression go sheepish and apologetic. ‘Right, too far. Sorry, Firmus,’ he apologized.</p><p>Mollified by the apology, Piett hummed slightly as he considered the memory of Lars cheerfully asking all manner of questions about the food while they had discussed one manner of update to the Lady’s systems or other. ‘Apology accepted,’ he said easily, before smiling slightly as he remembered the young man sharing his own world’s recipes in turn. ‘And there are some similarities, I suppose. More so than with many of the core worlds, in either case.’</p><p>Veers snorted and perked up as he finally caught sight of his own food arriving, and Piett hoped that that would be enough to distract his friend, but—</p><p>‘I’ll say,’ Veers muttered. ‘The food I prefer doesn’t give me capsaicin poisoning.’</p><p>‘I think the words you’re looking for are “has any seasoning at all,”’ Piett shot back, taking another bite of bread, eyeing his friend’s plate as it was placed in front of him. It seemed… rather empty. He raised an eyebrow as he swallowed down the bite. ‘That’s all?’</p><p>Veers shot him a bewildered look. ‘What do you mean, “that’s all?” That’s a normal hearty amount of food right there, Firmus!’</p><p>He gave the plate a second look, but reached the same conclusion as before. ‘I wouldn’t make it through half the day on that,’ he stated firmly. ‘Are you sure that’s enough, Max?’</p><p>‘Considering that I’m not a perpetual motion machine like you are?’ Veers asked as he began buttering a slice of toast. ‘Definitely.’ He then switched his gaze over to Piett's own bowl which had been half-emptied already. ‘Unlike you, apparently,’ he noted drily. ‘Sweet Force, Firmus, you’re like half my size, where do you even put it all?’</p><p>‘That’s for me to know, and for you to puzzle over,’ he replied primly as he resumed clearing his own share of the food.</p><p>Evidently, that was the last of the conversation as they both dug into their remaining food, only a scarce couple of lines slipping into the comfortable silence. Piett hardly minded it as he turned his full focus on his food, he had little time left before he was expected at the workshop to begin the investigation anyway.</p><p>Bit by bit, the plates and bowls and cups were emptied, and their stomachs filled with the fuel needed to get through another day. Finishing the last bit of hir’rinn and wiping his mouth on a napkin, he nodded to Veers. ‘I have to be off,’ he said, ‘Engineer Lyvon will likely be expecting me soon to start the investigation.’</p><p>Veers dipped his head in acknowledgement before grimacing. ‘And Director Richton will likely expect a call from me soon regarding Zev's whole fast-tracked graduation scheme.’ He sighed. ‘What that kid puts me through,’ he muttered, though Piett didn’t put too much stock into the genuineness of the complaints when he saw Veers’ mouth twitch up at the corners. He turned back to Piett and nodded at him. ‘Good luck with your investigation, and I hope you’ll find something that’ll keep heads from rolling.’</p><p>Somehow… that didn’t feel as reassuring as it usually did. He returned the well-wishing of luck, but even as he began to make his way to the elevator station once more, the slight feeling of dread wouldn’t leave the back of his mind. He sighed as he shook his head. Nothing to be done about it, any investigation that had Lord Vader looming over it while hungry for details was bound to set the hairs on his neck on end.</p><p>Giving his destination to the Troopers manning the station, Piett recalled the hallway leading to the workshop from yesterday. It had been <em>gouged</em> along the sides, deep rends in the metal that bled sparking wires and other internal mechanisms. Which… might just be his panicked and overactive imagination recalling the scene from yesterday incorrectly while still surging with adrenaline and flight-or-fight instincts, but with the things his superior had shown himself capable of yesterday?</p><p>He swallowed.</p><p>It also might <em>not.</em> And if it wasn’t, that spelled very bad things for him should this whole investigation turn out nothing.</p><p>He sighed as he adjusted his datapad in the crook of his arm, vowing to find out how Lars stashed his own datapad in his overalls without ruining the lines of his uniform once the young man woke up. The threat of death and danger, it was just another workday on the Lady then.</p><p>Hurrying his way through the lobbies of the elevator and rail stations, Piett scanned the route he was taking for any residual damage from yesterday’s rampage, and noted with surprised satisfaction that the majority of the damage had been mostly cleaned up. The rubble and debris had been swept up, the remnants of the broken doors removed, and the general air of panic and shock had abated. Everything seemed to have returned to some semblance of normalcy, until he arrived at the main hangar rail station.</p><p>The sheer number of cleanup crews present was already a bad sign that the situation was far from back to normal within the Engineering Corps’ main domain. He pursed his lips as he looked at the people walking around. Well, he didn’t see anyone wearing protective face coverings, so at the very least the dust must’ve settled. Which… wasn’t as much of a comfort as it should probably be, but it was something.</p><p>Wading his way through the crowds of people, he noted that even today there were still Troopers stationed at the exits of the rail station, though at least this time they weren’t forming a full armor wall but rather a loose checkpoint. It seemed that Engineers Lyvon’s requests of continued assistance were for more than just material and manpower from the navy, the army had clearly been approached as well.</p><p>Walking up to the checkpoint of Troopers, Piett shifted his datapad and adopted a genial expression when the Troopers finally noticed his approach, pleasantly surprised when two of them promptly moved out of the way to allow him passage.</p><p>‘Ah, Captain Piett, sir!’ one of them called out. ‘Lyvon said to expect your arrival. Head on through, sir, but watch your step. Apparently, cleanup has proven more of a hassle than the gearheads anticipated.’</p><p>‘Of course it’s proven a hassle, <em>di’kut,’</em> another Trooper hissed at their brother in arms. ‘Have you <em>seen</em> the size of those boulders out there?’</p><p><a id="back9" name="back9"></a><a id="back10" name="back10"></a>‘Could you stop hissing at me for <em>one moment!?’</em> the other implored miserably. ‘I said I was sorry for spilling caff on your sketchbook, it was an accident, <em>ori’haat!’</em> <a href="#note9"><sup>[9]</sup></a></p><p><em>‘Nu draar,’</em> <a href="#note10"><sup>[10]</sup></a> the former once more hissed out, sounding utterly frigid. ‘You weren’t even allowed to just take it out like that in the first place, you—'</p><p>Flicking his gaze between the two arguing Troopers, Piett looked in disbelief as they bickered back and forth before finally clearing his throat to get the two’s attention. ‘If I may, Troopers,’ he said blandly, ‘Am I cleared to proceed or not?’</p><p>‘Right!’ the first Trooper said, posture slumping with relief at being given an out even as he straightened up. ‘Of course, sir, don’t mind us.’</p><p>‘Especially don’t mind <em>that one,’</em> the other added on, crossing their arms and turning away.</p><p><a id="back11" name="back11"></a>‘Oh, come on, <em>vod, n’eparavu takisit.</em> Please?’ <a href="#note11"><sup>[11]</sup></a></p><p>
  <em>‘Nu draar!’</em>
</p><p>Ignoring the bickering Troopers with a roll of his eyes as he passed the checkpoint, Piett made a brisk pace of it as the argument faded into the background. The Trooper hadn’t been wrong though, he noted as he entered the cavernous space. There were still debris chucks scattered everywhere, and though the floor had been swept and the smaller rubble cleared away, it only gave a clearer view of how much the durasteel plating of the ground had warped and cratered under the impact of the remnants of the grand gates.</p><p>He grimaced in sympathy as he saw various teams of Engineers measure the extent of the damage with various laser riggings and depth gauges. It would be a hell of a task to get the main hangar once more looking like it did before Lord Vader's rampage, but it would have to be done.</p><p>Fortunately, for once, this wasn’t his problem to deal with, and he hurried past the teams of Engineers towards the problem that <em>was.</em></p><p>Turning the corner around one of the larger ships, he caught sight of the hallway leading to the workshop, and a day later, the sight hadn’t gotten any better.</p><p>Approaching the archway that was the entrance into the hallway beyond, lit by broken and flickering lights, Piett noted with trepidation that his imagination hadn’t exaggerated the size of the gouges in the metal whatsoever, and had, in fact, underestimated their size.</p><p>Up close and personal, the gouges were monstrously large, dwarfing any that a human or even <em>humanoid</em> could have created, with the occasional spark of electricity leaking out showing just how deep they reached. They lined the entire entry way of the corridor, circling the entire six meter tall archway like an uneven and inverted ring of teeth, and Piett felt the blood drain out of his face once he realize what—</p><p>
  <em>Two seconds.</em>
</p><p>He was taking two seconds to close his eyes and process this, damnit, and doing just that, he studious suppressed the primal fear that had welled up in the back of his mind as the realization of what Lord Vader was truly capable of hit home.</p><p>Two seconds, and then the world went on.</p><p>Opening his eyes once more, he took a deep breath and continued on into the corridor, ignoring how the hairs on his neck pricked up at his surroundings and the eerie silence that filled the corridor the further he got from the bustle of the main hangar.</p><p>Thankfully, he just needed to turn this corner and go a little further and there would be the workshop—</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Piett nearly dropped his datapad as he took in the sight in front of him. The gouges that had run along the length of the hallway finally came to an end. That was the good news.</p><p>The bad news was that they all convened on the ruined and blackened workshop entrance, smoke still rising into the air in thin ringlets, even as Piett could hear air filtration units working full tilt. His jaw nearly fell slack as he took in the sight before him. What in the name of the galaxy and all her stars had <em>happened</em> here?</p><p>“Dust explosion with the 3D printers” Lord Vader had said, Piett remembered that much. But surely even a dust explosion, powerful though it may be, couldn’t have resulted in the doors to the workshop looking like they had been cracked open with a bomb from the inside, jagged and blackened shards curling outward like a parody of a flower. Especially since Lars had <em>survived</em> said explosion as well with his greatest injuries being a lost arm, so that meant…</p><p>Lord Vader. Again.</p><p>He didn’t bother to feel surprised.</p><p>Standing in front of the horrifying sight were two Stormtrooper guards in the new SUTA armor and, thankfully, the familiar form of one Erribas Lyvon, who was clearly assessing the damage as they looked over the ruined doors.</p><p>Letting his footsteps ring out a little louder than he normally would to announce his presence, Piett took the time to be grateful that he wouldn’t have to investigate this place all by himself. The mere thought left a shiver running down his spine.</p><p><a id="back12" name="back12"></a>Lyvon looked up at his approach and offered him a humorless grin as he walked up, exchanging salutes in the process. ‘A rather impressive sight, hm, Captain?’ they asked. ‘If it weren’t for the fact that I knew the cause behind it I would think that someone was giving 5<sup>th</sup> century BISC <a href="#note12"><sup>[12]</sup></a> metal sculpting another go.’</p><p>The surprisingly levity in the man’s tone managed to startle an unexpected, but welcome, huff of laughter out of Piett, nervous though it was. ‘I wish I could agree to that, Engineer Lyvon,’ he greeted back. ‘But as it stands, do you have any more information on all… this?’ he asked with a wave towards the smoking ruins of the workshop’s blast doors.</p><p>‘Asides from the fact that it looks like the mirror image of second wave post-modernism, sir?’ they asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘Unfortunately, not much. We left the scene mostly undisturbed asides from sending a few firefighters in to curb the flames. According to them, the workshop is surprisingly intact, and there were no major hazards aside from the epicenter of the fire, so we shouldn’t need any protective gear asides from the customary respirators. For the rest,’ they shrugged their shoulders. ‘I’m afraid we must find out ourselves, Captain.’</p><p>Piett pursed his lips into a straight line as he looked into the gaping maw of the workshop entrance. ‘I see…’ He sighed and felt the weariness already begin to set in. ‘Let us begin then, Engineer. The one ordering this investigation is best not kept waiting.’</p><p>Lyvon nodded curtly. ‘Agreed.’ They stepped over to the Troopers and retrieved the now-familiar full-face respirator from one of them. ‘Furthermore, sir,’ they said, ‘Allow me to make introductions. These two Troopers will be joining us in the investigation on the grounds that there might be potentially hazardous material to handle or otherwise need for extra manpower and two more sets of eyes.’ They gestured to the Trooper who had just given them the respirator. ‘This is Commander Cody—’ and then they nodded to the other Trooper, ‘—and that is Commander Appo. They joined on their own insistence.’</p><p>With that introduction, both Troopers snapped off a sharp salute, and as Piett saluted back, he could guess as to what the reasoning was. Max had kept him well informed on the hero-worship situation that was developing in the Trooper barracks regarding Lars, and he didn’t doubt that these two men were the Stormtrooper Corps’ contribution to assisting with the investigation. Something which Piett appreciated not having to search for volunteers for.</p><p>‘Captain Piett, sir,’ the one introduced as Cody greeted with a curt but respectful dip of his head. ‘You can count on us to assist you in whatever manner you need to locate the cause of Engineer Lars’ accident.’</p><p>The one introduced as Appo nodded once in agreement with his counterpart. ‘An injury to the Armorer is an injury to us all.’</p><p>Armorer? Why did that sound familiar…?</p><p>Well, never mind. He nodded curtly to the both of them as he took the respirator from Lyvon's hands. ‘A pleasure, I’m sure, but I hope you understand that this won’t be your average mission, Commanders. Consider it closer to an escort mission than anything else,’ he warned them, remembering all too well Veers’ stories of how the one thing worse than a disobedient Trooper was a <em>bored</em> Trooper.</p><p>‘Not to worry, sir,’ Appo responded quietly, something significant filtering through in the vocoder of the helmet. ‘We have only just returned from an escort mission three days ago. The mentality is still there.’</p><p>Three days ago? That meant—</p><p>‘The Imperial Palace, hm?’ he asked Appo, seeking confirmation of his suspicions.</p><p>‘Yes, sir,’ the Commander responded, and then, ‘Engineer Lars’ detail, sir.’</p><p>‘Both of us,’ Commander Cody added.</p><p>Ah. Well then. He couldn’t say that didn’t explain a whole lot.</p><p>‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘I think we will get along just fine in that case.’ With that, he slipped the respirator over his head, and tried to mimic the movements and fit he had been guided through yesterday. It worked out well enough, and before long, he turned back to Lyvon to declare the investigation ready to start.</p><p>Lyvon, who was looking at all of them with a realization and something knowing in their eyes that had Piett suspect they knew exactly what deeper reasoning laid under this investigation for all of them, asides from their orders. A reasoning Piett believed was their own as well. No need to put a name on it though, or pass any accusations.</p><p>‘Ready, Engineer?’ he asked with a tilt of his head, attempting to convey some form of emotion now that half his face was obscured behind a respirator and the other half behind a transparent plastisteel mask.</p><p>‘Ready, sir,’ they agreed with a nod. ‘Let’s head in.’</p><p>Carefully stepping through the maw of the beast so as to not get stuck on any barbs or edges, Piett's first impression up entering the workshop proper was that Lyvon had been very much correct in stating that there was surprisingly little damage done to the main workspace.</p><p>Walking between the various work benches and holodisplays, he noted that despite the fact that there was a decent amount of soot and light fire damage everywhere, as well as some scratch damage from Lord Vader's dynamic entry, there would only be a little work to be done before the place would once more be fit to be used as the mechanical laboratory its young occupant treated it as. But for the rest…</p><p>He looked around the powered down room, and recalled the times he had seen it in all its glory on one hand. Lars, for all that the young man was friendly and open, also had a deeply secretive and private side to him, and it was that side that kept the workshop a near mythical place amongst the crew aside from a lucky few. A sanctum for the Lady’s Sun. A status it more than deserved, as even in its powered down state it was still a magnificent sight to behold.</p><p>Lyvon walked up beside him, and from the corner of his eye, Piett saw the man’s gaze sweep across the powered down workshop too, even as they spoke. ‘The 3D printer room is on the second floor, sir,’ the Engineer quietly informed him. ‘If Lord Vader's information is correct, we will find the cause of all this grief there.’</p><p>‘Lead the way, Engineer,’ he replied just as quietly, still glancing around the room where nothing less than miracles were made nearly every day.</p><p>Following Lyvon to a corner where a small, soot-covered open elevator stood waiting, Piett watched as the man took out a tattered rag and began wiping down the control panel. Once the thing was properly cleaned, or at least as clean as one could make anything with what Piett suspected was an oil rag, they flicked a few switches and the elevator blinked to life with lights and a quiet, electric hum.</p><p>Patting the thing once in satisfaction, Lyvon turned back to them. ‘Right then, gentlemen. All aboard, please.’</p><p>Stepping into the elevator along with the Stormtroopers, Piett held onto the railing as Lyvon directed the whole affair upwards. As they glided along the rails, Piett noted that the wall had rather odd… scratch marks on it?</p><p>‘Stop the lift,’ he commanded before he was completely conscious of his decision to do so. Immediately the lift ground to a halt, but before he had any time to appreciate the speed at which Lyvon had managed to follow that order, he had already notice something else that made his blood run cold.</p><p>Grooves. Clawed into the durasteel much like they were in the hallway outside, but much, much smaller than those. And less numerous too. Almost like—</p><p>‘Those were created by a human hand,’ one of the Commanders noted, and by Piett's shoulder Appo reached out to brush a gauntlet over them, matching his own fingers to the grooves to demonstrate. ‘Or at least, something that looked like a human hand, but was a hell of a lot stronger in the grip.’</p><p>With that description, it had to be—</p><p>‘Lord Vader,’ Piett heard himself say flatly. ‘There would’ve been no one else who would be able to scale the wall like that.’</p><p>A startled sound came from the corner where Lyvon stood. ‘We’re ten meters off the ground!’</p><p>‘Evidently,’ Appo returned drily. ‘His Lordship didn’t care.’</p><p>An understatement if Piett had ever heard on. A few seconds passed in silence before the elevator resumed its path again, and this time, now that he knew what he was looking for, Piett could track Lord Vader's path up the wall. A sentence which Piett had honestly never thought he would think, let along find relevant to his current situation.</p><p>Without further incident, the elevator brought all four of them safely to the second floor of the workshop, and immediately upon arrival, Piett needed no further instruction as to which was the 3D printer room. <em>Or well,</em> he thought as he eyed the charred black and still smoking entry of one specific room, <em>what was </em>left<em> of the 3D printer room.</em></p><p>When Lyvon walked confidently in that same direction, Piett needed no further confirmation, and simply followed the man into the belly of the beast.  </p><p>The further they walked, the more severe the damage of the fire became. Blackened and discolored walls absolutely caked in soot, warped plastisteel and general destruction, and a thick, hazy air of unpleasantness that hung in the air like a holofilter. The epicenter of the fire had raged here and injured a young Sun so deeply.</p><p>They stepped through another shattered and ruined door that marked the final destination of Lord Vader's rampage, and sure enough, behind it they found what was left of the 3D printer room. Utter destruction.</p><p>Here, the fire had evidently raged the fiercest and wildest, the whole room dark save for the light that streamed in through the doorway and the occasional spark of electricity or glow of a stray ember. Thankfully, the Troopers found their calling as they stepped forward with the headtorches of their helmets illuminating the way.</p><p>‘Force,’ Lyvon muttered as they observed the scene cast in the light of the Stormtroopers’ torches. ‘Talk about total destruction. And Engineer Lars was just lying in the middle of all this—?’</p><p>‘Looks like Lord Vader had a damn good point in rushing as he did,’ Cody cut in lowly, sweeping his torch over the blown out remains of what Piett could only assume was a 3D printer. ‘I don’t even want to think of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t.’</p><p>Neither did Piett, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from rearing their unwelcome faces anyway with the words of the en. ‘Focus,’ he said instead, banishing the useless guesses as to what if. ‘We’re here to find the cause of all this. Engineer Lyvon?’ he asked as he turned to the man. ‘What do you make of all this?’</p><p>Said man hummed low in their throat as they observed the fire-ravaged room. ‘Considering the location, the destruction, and method of destruction?’ they asked. ‘A dust explosion,’ they stated confidently. ‘And even if it didn’t start out that way, it would’ve almost certainly ended in one. But,’ they said as they walked over to the carcass of one of the ruined 3D printers, ‘That doesn’t explain what started it. They’re an inherent risk of the method by which the printers work, yes, but we’re <em>aware</em> of those risks and have built-in failsafes to counter them,’ they said with a frown. ‘Lars perhaps more than anyone, with how relatively fresh his safety course was and how insistent he always is on workplace safety.’</p><p>‘Then I believe you have your objective for this investigation, Engineer,’ Piett stated firmly. ‘Find out what caused the failsafes to fail, and hopefully we’ll be able to eliminate that threat for the future. For all our sakes.’</p><p>‘Understood, sir,’ Lyvon said as they glanced back. ‘What will you be doing? If I may ask?’</p><p>Piett took a good look around the room, dirty and littered with rubble as it was and sighed. At least his uniform included gloves. ‘If it won’t interfere with your inspection, Engineer?’ he asked with a wry look. ‘Getting my hands dirty. I may not know what to look for exactly, but I <em>am</em> a dab hand at categorization, so I will take the sorting of debris for my reconning.’</p><p>Lyvon gave him a long look before nodding in agreement as they turned back to the carcass of the printer, pulling screwdriver and rag from their toolbelt as they carefully stepped closer through the minefield of debris. ‘Keep an eye out for anything that doesn’t look like fire damage, sir,’ they called over their shoulder as they began rubbing at the soot on a particular part of the casing with vigor.</p><p>‘And us, sir?’ Cody interjected. ‘Any task we can perform besides being walking lamps?’</p><p>‘Yes,’ Piett replied as he knelt down not far from the printer Lyvon had chosen to work on and began the tedious work of inspecting metal fragments. ‘One of you can see if they can requisition some actual lamps from close by while the other remains exactly where they are.’</p><p>‘Appo, you take that one,’ Cody immediately ordered.</p><p>‘What?’ Appo said. ‘Why me?’</p><p>‘Because I said it first,’ came the distinctly childish reply, the light beam shaking as the Commander presumably turned his head towards his fellow Commander, and Piett rolled his eyes as he slipped one piece of particularly warped plastisteel into a pile he mentally labeled as FUBAR. ‘Hop to it, <em>vod.’</em> Ah, that would explain it.</p><p>‘Please keep the light stable for now, Commander,’ he instructed lightly. ‘At least until your brother returns.’</p><p>‘Sorry, sir,’ was the reply, and the light beam quickly settled down into something less seizure inducing as the Commander kept his position.</p><p>‘And Commander Appo? Please go get those lamps,’ he added, and ignored the snickering and grumbling from behind him as he heard one of the Troopers leave, the lift whirring to life not soon after.</p><p>They all lapsed into silence after that, the room filled only with the sounds of scraping and clattering as both Lyvon and he worked away at their respective tasks, which, admittedly for Piett, was rather dull. Though at the very least inspecting various warped and melted pieces of metal and plastisteel for faults was still more engaging than sorting through resource statement reports. For one thing, the pieces came in all manner of forms—</p><p>Wait. Hold on.</p><p>He frowned at the piece of metal he held in his hand, turning it over. What were those holes?</p><p>He held the piece up in the air and tilted it for better inspection. On first glance, it appeared to have been some kind of flat plating that had been edged with plastisteel, now only a melted and dripping edging that had hardened into something truly foul that clung to the bent plate. But those weren’t the things that caught his eye. On multiple scattered places, just along the line that indicated where the plastisteel had once sat, there were round, miniscule holes littering the metal. No larger than a pinhead, he’d nearly have missed them if the light hadn’t shone through them and illuminated their location.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes as he thumbed over them. Were they supposed to be there?</p><p>Putting the piece of plating down for the moment, he turned to the piles of sorted debris besides him. If there was any similar kind of plating, that would likely be able to tell him if they were features or flaws. Rummaging through the pile of scrap metal, he at last found what he was searching for. The piece was a bit different in shape, clearly sheared in half sometime in the explosion, and bent to hell and back, but the corners and plastisteel residue marks were the same.</p><p>Thumbing along the line of the residue marks to remove excess soot and gunk, he held the piece of plating aloft to let the light hit it properly.</p><p>No holes. Hm.</p><p>‘Engineer Lyvon?’ he called as he stood up, holding both pieces side by side. ‘I may have found something.’</p><p>‘Sir?’ the Engineer asked as they looked up from where they were inspecting the melted conglomerate that had once been the internal wiring and circuit boards of the printer.</p><p>Rising up from the floor and wincing only slightly when his knees protested, he strode over to where the Engineer was leaning over the remains of the printer. ‘These two pieces,’ he said, ‘Could you tell me what they were before they got blasted to hell? I believe there may be something wrong with one of them.’</p><p>Holding out the pieces for Lyvon's inspection, Piett was pleased to see that the Engineer had to only scrutinize them with narrowed eyes for a moment before recognition sparked. ‘Corners of the air sealing plates,’ they stated confidently. ‘What about them, sir?’</p><p><em>Sealing</em> plates?</p><p>‘There are holes in one of these pieces, Engineer,’ he stated darkly, as a suspicion began to form in the shadows of his awareness. ‘And I am hoping you can tell me those are meant to be there and it’s just my own ignorance of mechanics that made them stand out to me.’</p><p>That hope was dashed as soon as Lyvon’s eye blew wide and even their dark skin seemed to take on an ashen hue. ‘Holes?’ they whispered direly.</p><p>‘Yes, just along the residue line—’ He cut himself off with a startled sound as Lyvon snatched the pieces out of his hands with lightning speed.</p><p>Subtly checking to see if all his fingers were still attached, Piett watched as the Engineer jumped to their feet and rushed over to where Commander Cody was standing with singular intensity, the poor man actually stumbling back a step before getting forcibly yanked along by the determined Engineer and placed firmly next to the door at an angle. ‘Stand there,’ came the curt order. ‘And <em>don’t move.</em> I need the light.’</p><p>‘Sir?’ the Commander squeaked out, and it took Piett a second to realize that he was being addressed by the Trooper.</p><p>‘Do as they say, Commander,’ he ordered firmly. ‘This might be important.’</p><p><em>Honestly,</em> Piett thought as he observed the Engineer holding up the pieces against the two crossed beams of light, <em>there was no “might” about this. Not with how Lyvon was acting.</em> He may have only known the man for a day, but even he could tell this wasn’t the usual behavior for them.</p><p>Wary of disturbing Lyvon’s apparent moment of revelation, Piett carefully walked closer to where the Engineer was standing, the man having pulled down their respirator to fit the magnifying headset they kept perched on their head over their eyes, already adjusting the lenses. Once they were apparently satisfied with what they saw, they held the shards of plating up against the light and slowly tilted them back and forth, occasionally flipping them.</p><p>‘I knew it,’ they growled out after a moment. ‘I fucking <em>knew it!’</em></p><p>‘Engineer Lyvon?’ he asked cautiously.</p><p>The man wheeled around and yanked the magnifier back up to their forehead with a furious gesture, eyes blazing as they looked at Piett. ‘The holes,’ they spat out with a venom that shocked Piett, ‘They were <em>drilled</em> in, sir.’</p><p>What. </p><p>‘Care to explain that statement, Engineer?’ he responded, voice lowering to icy depths. If Lyvon was implying what he thought they were implying…</p><p>‘It means, sir,’ the Engineer hissed, their voice shaking with barely leashed rage as they began to pace. ‘That someone here has committed foul play.’ They paused in their pacing to shake the shard of plating at Piett. ‘This— This is a <em>seal.</em> It’s not— there’s not supposed to be fuckin <em>holes</em> in this thing!’ They continued their pacing, faster and looking more hunted than before, eyes wide and wild. ‘And the placing, someone put those holes there deliberately, <em>knowing</em> that they wouldn’t be seen in time to prevent an accident.’</p><p>‘It’s sabotage then,’ Piett said coldly, a familiar and freezing rage beginning to build up in his veins.</p><p>‘It’s a <em>murder attempt,’</em> Lyvon hissed back, still pacing like a caged nexu, before abruptly stopping and looking Piett right in the eyes. ‘Someone wants Lars dead. Someone who has access to Lars’ workshop wants him dead, and would’ve <em>succeeded</em> in their attempt was it not for Lord Vader.’</p><p>‘Who?’</p><p>Piett and Lyvon both looked over to the source of the monotone question, and found Commander Cody standing in a relaxed stance that somehow screamed hostility. ‘Who?’ he repeated, tone deceptively calm even as it reached subzero temperatures. ‘Who harmed Lars, and why?’</p><p>‘That is what I would like to know as well, Trooper,’ he answered, keeping his tone bland for fear that he would otherwise start hissing too. He glanced at where Lyvon had resumed their pacing, their face contorted into a look of silent, but absolute <em>fury.</em> ‘Can you think of anyone who had access to the workshop who might have hostile sentiments against Engineer Lars, Lyvon?’</p><p>‘I’m working on it, sir,’ they ground out, all decorum and politeness forgotten in the face of the facts that someone had attempted to murder the kind young man. Not that Piett could blame them, he was feeling rather short in the fuse as well at the moment.</p><p>For a moment, nothing but the pacing footsteps could be heard, neither Piett or Commander Cody daring to make a sound to break the Engineer’s concentration. It was in vain, however, as Lyvon could only utter out a guttural noise of frustration after a few moments. ‘Fucking <em>damnit!’</em> they cursed as they threw one of their screwdrivers, the thing harmlessly bouncing off of the ground, rolling away. ‘I can’t think of anyone, my mind is too worked up!’</p><p>That was unfortunate, but to be expected. Piett closed his eyes for two seconds to order his thoughts, the cold fury in his blood sharpening his thoughts to an icy shard singularly focused on finding the culprit of this— this—</p><p>He breathed deeply.</p><p>Whomever had committed the crime would’ve had to access the workshop, and the only way to do that without doing what Lord Vader did, was to insert a valid code cylinder into the locking mechanism of the blast doors. Which meant that—</p><p>‘Engineer Lyvon, are the security records of Engineer Lars’ workshop kept stored somewhere?’ he asked, a plan beginning to form in his mind as he ticked of his mental list of things to consider.</p><p>Lyvon came to an abrupt halt as they looked at Piett, a blank look on their face even as their eyes looked far away for a moment. ‘Yes,’ they said eventually, slowly nodding their head. ‘Yes, the records— they should be kept at security, we got the order to start storing them ever since the threat of espionage became a serious consideration.’</p><p>Piett smiled in a manner that probably showed too many teeth to really be considered a smile, but he was beyond caring at the moment. ‘Then I should say we have a traitor to catch.’</p><p>It was at that moment that a stumbling and crashing sound came down from the workshop ground floor, and all present within the 3D printing room startled as the lift came to life, a soft cursing heard just over the whirring of the apparatus. Looking rather befuddled at the room’s entrance, Piett could only feel like it was almost out of tone for Commander Appo to come stumbling in while he attempted to balance a too large number of emergency floodlights within his grasp.</p><p>Something the Commander seemed to realize too as he came to a halt, his visor tilting left and right as he observed the scene in front of him. ‘Uh, did I miss something, sir?’</p><p>He almost felt like laughing at the innocent question, but there was hardly any time for fooling around. ‘Quite a bit, Commander,’ he admitted readily, his mind already going through the steps that would have to be taken. ‘Such as the discovery that the incident that nearly killed Lars wasn’t an accident, but a deliberate murder attempt by way of sabotage.’</p><p>‘Wait, <em>what!?’</em> the Commander shouted as he promptly dropped all the floodlights he was holding onto the ground with a cacophonous crash, but the Trooper ignored it all. <em>‘Sir!?’</em> he asked instead, clearly lost at Piett's statement.</p><p>‘I will explain while we walk Trooper, but for now, bear with me,’ he ordered, plan solidifying. He turned to Lyvon with and fixed the man with a determined look that brokered no arguments. ‘Engineer Lyvon, continue with your inspection. Look for more signs of sabotage that could potentially reveal more about how the culprit went about the act and their identity.’</p><p>The Engineer nodded and snapped of a sharp salute as they acknowledged their orders. Good.</p><p>He turned to Commander Cody. ‘Commander, I expect you to continue assisting Engineer Lyvon and to ensure their safety. This is now a crime scene, treat it accordingly and recruit more of your men to assist you if need be. <em>Anyone</em> is recruitable, as under my orders and by the authority granted to me by Lord Vader, so accept no objections. I expect you to know who amongst the Crewmates have the specializations necessary that will allow them to act as Forensics. Am I clear?’</p><p>The Commander nodded and snapped off a salute much like Lyvon. ‘Sir, yes, sir,’ he acknowledged, steel edging his voice.</p><p>He nodded back. ‘Good.’ With that, he turned to Commander Appo. ‘And you, Commander, will accompany me to security. We have a record cache to requisition and a traitor to catch.’</p><p>Appo, for all that the man was likely feeling somewhat lost, showed none of that in his demeanor when he saluted sharply and nodded once. ‘Sir, yes, sir!’</p><p>This was it then. ‘Alright, gentlemen,’ he said as he folded his hands behind his back, looking them each in the eyes as best he could. ‘Then this is the official start of our mission. There is a traitor amongst our ranks who has foolishly decided to tip their hand, and make an enemy of us all. This was a <em>mistake,’ </em>he stated, knowing it as the truth as he recalled a certain black specter cradling a young man in his arms as carefully as one would spun glass. He allowed himself a small, vicious smile. ‘And we will see to it that they understand it as such. Is that clear?’</p><p>He hadn’t really needed to ask, the mirror of his own determination and thirst for vengeance reflexed in the mood of all present within the room.</p><p>‘Yes, <em>sir!’</em> Troopers and Engineer echoed in sync.</p><p>‘Very well then,’ he said with a nod as he made his way to the door. ‘Then let us begin.’</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
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<a id="note8" name="note8"></a>[8] <em>Bangkal:</em> a large or single-serving sized savory bread that has colorful pieces of dried vegetables and pepper baked in, as well as various herbs, spices, and edible minerals. The preferred and politest way to serve bangkal is freshly baked, just out of the oven, since part of the preparation process is to cut slits into the bread and then stuff those slits with various cheeses and, optionally, meats, letting the residual heat of the bread or a short broil melt the cheese, and then to drizzle with an herbal sauce. The dish itself is quite deceptive in how spicy it can be, seeing as that the majority of the pepper is sealed away within the bread and out of sight and smell.  <sup><a href="#back8">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<a id="note9" name="note9"></a>[9] <em>Ori’haat:</em> translates roughly into “It’s the truth” or “I swear.” Used to convince someone of something. <sup><a href="#back9">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<a id="note10" name="note10"></a>[10] <em>Nu draar:</em> a Mando’a phrase indicating a strong denial of or disagreement with something. Literally translated as “Not never” due to Mando’a using double negatives for emphasis instead of contradiction. <sup><a href="#back10">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<a id="note11" name="note11"></a>[11] <em>N’eparavu takisit: </em>“I apologize” or “I’m sorry.” Literally translated as “I eat my insult.” <sup><a href="#back11">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<a id="note12" name="note12"></a>[12] <em>BISC:</em> “Before Imperial Standard Calendar.” The current year in-story is 18 ISC, or the eighteenth year in the Imperial Standard Calendar. <sup><a href="#back12">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, it took five chapters, but now we're here, huh? </p><p>I would also like to note that I'm well aware that I'm lagging behind on responding to comments, but I'm attempting to juggle several different things all at once at the moment, and I'm afraid that that's the ball that's been dropping these last few weeks. I'll try to get to them soon, though, since I love every last one of them ^.^</p><p>I'll see you next Sunday, dears, and then we'll finally be hearing of everyone's favorite sunshine again as he wakes up ;D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. And Make You Wonder What You Missed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke finally wakes up, and learns what happened. Bacta may be a miracle healing solution for all that ails you, but the mind is not so easily swayed. Fortunately, as in all things, he learns that no matter how bleak the moment, it all seems a little less frightening when you have someone there to hold you through it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright! Luke is <i>back!</i> Seems like it's been an eternity since we last had a peak into our favorite sunshine bean's mind, eh? Four chapters of the main character being unconscious, I can tell you I won't be doing that any time soon again. </p><p>...Then again, that doesn't mean I won't do it at all &gt;:)</p><p>Nothing to worry about, I assure you. In any case, let me give you the trigger list!</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Trigger List:<br/>-descriptions of an limb stump<br/>-graphic descriptions of a panic attack<br/>-graphic descriptions of a breakdown</b></p><p> </p><p>Stay safe, dear, and <i>enjoy!</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Luke Skywalker was aware of anything at all in between great spells of nothing, he hardly recognized his surroundings.</p><p>Every moment of awareness was marked by darkness and colors he only rarely had a name for, constantly twisting and melting into new ones. Some small, scared part of his mind hurt watching them, or— being aware of them? Sensing them? He didn’t know. Reality felt strange and loose in this space, as if someone had taken it and combed it into roving to be spun on the spinning wheel of the cosmos, not yet a thread, but softer and fluffier than just raw wool. He didn’t understand it, and his mind moved too slow to really try, even as that small part of him said he should be scared.</p><p>A larger, wiser part of himself instead found it a perfect place to just huddle down in and let himself be lulled back into sleep by the comforting softness that swallowed him whole and pulsed like a heartbeat. He liked that part, and so he listened to it.</p><p>And then the darkness started rumbling in a way that he recognized, but couldn’t place, and even that small, scared part of himself settled back down into sleep, comfort and warmth and something… something else washing over him. He decided that he liked the darkness—it was warm and soft and kind and… familiar?—and he tried to let it know, but his voice didn’t really seem to work like usual here. It tended to slip through the gaps between this loose reality and disperse like water on sand.</p><p>So instead he tried to just… feel? Sing? <em>Be?</em> He didn’t know what he did, but he knew that once he did it, the darkness rumbled back at him like quiet thunder. Only it wasn’t quiet? It was pretty loud. He couldn’t hear anything else while the darkness thundered, but it didn’t <em>feel</em> like a loud sound. It felt like hiding under the covers during a sandstorm. It felt like sheltering in a cave when caught out by the high Suns. It felt like a warm, buffeting wind while sandsailing at dusk. It felt gentle. It felt safe.</p><p>It felt like love.</p><p>So he tried to let it know that he loved it back. He didn’t know why, or how that he knew that he loved it, but he knew that he did. He wasn’t sure if the darkness understood what he tried to say, but he felt like it didn’t really matter when thunder rolled back over him like a wave and swept in more warmth and comfort. The darkness loved him and he loved it.</p><p>He didn’t need much more to keep trying to send love back to it while he tucked deep down into his bed of warmth and love, sleepy though he was. He didn’t know how much time passed like that, just that whenever he woke up, the darkness was always there to rumble and thunder waves of comfort and safety and everything that made Luke try to muzzily reply with his own warmth and comfort.</p><p>He was sleepy, though. So very sleepy. And whenever he told the darkness that, it seemed to laugh like a thunderstorm, and then the world would become so much softer and calmer and warmer and he couldn’t help but slip away again.</p><p>Sometimes the darkness seemed worried, and when it did, the world shifted, and the colors became harsher to his tired eyes, reality less like a downy bed and more like a patch of brambles.</p><p>He didn’t like it when that happened. And one time? Was there even time here? He didn’t know, but he <em>did</em> know that sometimes the world almost hurt and the darkness had pressed down on him. Down, down, down, until the world bled into nothingness again.</p><p>It was okay though. When he woke up, he could feel that the darkness was sorry and worried and just wanted him warm—safe—asleep—happy, curling around him and thundering of nothing but relief and love.</p><p>Love…</p><p>Why the darkness was here, or why it had needed him to sleep was a mystery to him, but the love wasn’t a lie. Luke would know if it was, he was good with lies. And the darkness… the darkness seemed like it <em>couldn’t</em> lie to him. Not like this. Not here. He didn’t know how he knew that, he didn’t know a lot of things here, but when he thought that the world seemed to sing to him with something <em>right,</em> so it must be true.</p><p>After that, there was less nothingness as the darkness just rumbled at him like a thunderstorm, Luke singing—sending—being back as best as he could. The darkness loved him, and the darkness would keep him safe. He knew it would.</p><p>But when he went to sleep and woke up again in a place that wasn’t dark but so, so light, he didn’t even know what to think anymore.</p><p>Blue and gold, blue and gold, they played together against the backdrop of a starry sky. Or was it patches of sky drifting amongst the blue and gold? Perception escaped him and slipped though his hands like powder sand.</p><p>But he was sleepy, and his mind was slow, and colors that didn’t exist danced around him like people celebrating at a festival. And reality was soft here. Soft and light and more transparent than lace. It flowed apart at the edges and Luke was so very, very tired. He needed to sleep, and the world wrapped around him like a nest of unreality.</p><p>He huddled down into himself and felt his presence already begin to sink through reality, back down, down, down, through the gaps and into the darkness, his weight more than enough to let him escape from this strange, unwound world. He closed his eyes, and waited for the darkness to take him back.</p><p>He sank further and further down, reality around him brushing against him like a soft caress, and its airy presence almost felt like love.</p><p>Impressions that were barely thoughts drifted through his mind. Brown and soft and warm in waves that spilled over in thin, thin threads that framed pale and beautiful and twin brown spots that were so, so warm and gentle and kind. Billowing blue that shimmered like water but danced through the air like wind. Flowers, flowers, flowers of familiarity.</p><p>And love.</p><p>Then, nothingness.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Luke blearily opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light filtering in, his first thought was, nonsensically, that he hoped someone had gotten the number of the speeder that’d hit him. His second thought was to squeeze his eyes back shut after the light pierced a little too deep for his still half-asleep brain.</p><p>There was a bone-deep ache within him that he didn’t often recall experiencing, and even then, only when he’d crashed his skyhopper especially gracelessly. His entire body felt heavy and uncooperative, and there was a tingle all over him that he wasn’t quite sure was unpleasant or not. His throat was raw, even as it didn’t hurt, and there was a cramping all over his body like he’d had a coughing fit after going through a sandstorm without a filter. And he couldn’t feel his right arm for some reason, the entire limb felt numb and heavy. Never mind the fact that his mind was moving as sluggish as a jawa speeder.</p><p>All in all, he felt like shit.</p><p>What in the Name of the Desert and all Her Moons, had <em>happened</em> to him?</p><p>He tried to make a sound as he shifted minutely to get a bearing on his situation, but his throat only managed to produce a weak mew that even a kitten would’ve been able to pack more of a punch behind. He was… in a bed of some kind? He could feel sheets rubbing against him, and something that gave way underneath his head that might be a pillow, so probably? Parts of him also felt like they weren’t touching the sheets though, parts where the tingling sensation was especially bad and his skin felt tacky and strange. Blood? Some kind of mud? It didn’t feel like it usually did though, and he didn’t feel any kind of danger nearby, so probably not blood, at least. Which was nice.</p><p>Luke breathed deeply as he focused on regaining awareness. His mind was slowly defogging, and senses other than touch or general awareness began to filter back in. He could taste antiseptic and cleaning product in the air, along with something unbearably sweet and... fruity? What?</p><p>He discarded the odd smells and tastes as something alarming when sounds once more began to register with him, and alongside beeping, bubbling, and whirring, there was a familiar, deeply comforting sound that reassured him everything would be alright.</p><p>Next to him, he heard the cycling of a respirator.</p><p>Shifting his head against the pillow towards the sound, he tried to open his eyes once more and not flinch at the brightness this time, at which he only partially succeeded. ‘Vader?’ he mumbled softly, his voice rasping against his still somewhat sensitive throat, but wanting to hear the reassurances of the man himself as he still felt so incredibly weak.</p><p>There was a gust of static that he couldn’t quiet place with how slow his mind was moving, but that he tentatively put down as relief. ‘I am here, Luke,’ the familiar rumbling monotone replied. ‘I am here.’</p><p>That alone was enough to make Luke melt back against whatever he was laid out on and stop attempting to shift about while his body was still so, so heavy.</p><p>Vader was here.</p><p>He would be alright.</p><p>Waiting for his eyes to slowly readjust to the lights, he blinked at the dark silhouette situated besides him. ‘Bright,’ he muttered weakly, not knowing exactly why he did so, but doing it all the same.</p><p>The air shivered around them for a moment, and as if in response, the lights still piercing Luke's eyes began to dim down to a much more reasonable level. Blinking much more steadily now that he no longer had to strain against the light trying to murder his poor eyes, Luke found that it was a lot easier to look up to the man standing— no, sitting, beside his bed. And he was fairly certain now that it was a bed and not something else.</p><p>Red lenses looked down at him, and now that he was more awake he could feel the carefully restrained concern brushing against him as gentle as a feather. Smiling softly at the dark behemoth so very carefully fussing over him, Luke could only think of one thing to say. ‘Hi.’</p><p>Vader's mask tipped forward as a burst of static made its way out of the vocoder, his shoulders shaking with laughter as fondness trilled through the air interwind with relief. Luke's smile widened and his cheek pressed further into his pillow as the red lenses once more focused on him. ‘Hello, little one.’</p><p>Luke blinked up at Vader when the man tentatively raised a hand and, after a moment of hesitation, ran it gently through Luke's hair. The contact was unexpected to say the least, but Luke hardly minded it and sank into the touch, closing his eyes to enjoy the comfort. It was rare that Vader dared to take these kinds of steps, and Luke did his best to encourage the man whenever he worked up the courage. And it was just… nice to be touched like this by someone who cared.</p><p>Vader softly rubbed a thumb over his brow and Luke muzzily blinked up at him, feeling a bit of old… terror? Luke frowned in confusion as he felt the feeling slip off of the man, leather-clad hand still gently threading through his hair. ‘Oh, little star,’ Vader said as quietly as the vocoder would allow. ‘Do not scare me like that again, please. I very well could have lost you.’</p><p>
  <em>Lost him? </em>
</p><p>‘What happened?’ he mumbled, once more shifting in his bed, uncomfortable with the pressing feeling of old terror flowing off of his mentor. Something had happened to him while he was out cold, and he doubted it had been pleasant, even if he felt mostly fine now.</p><p>Vader hesitated for a moment, and that was enough to make Luke wary of what was to come. ‘You… were in an incident, little one,’ the man confessed eventually. ‘A very serious incident that nearly killed you.’</p><p>Luke gave the man a puzzled look, and his own unease grew in tandem with the trepidation he felt growing in his mentor. ‘Vader?’ he asked, voice quiet even as his mind grew louder. What had happened to him?</p><p>Vader uncharacteristically shifted his weight nervously as he seemingly gathered his thoughts. Eventually, with a flow of static that Luke translated as a sigh, he pulled his hand back, and Luke instantly missed the comforting touch. ‘There was a mishap in your workshop, little one,’ he explained gently, ‘An explosion of some kind, likely because of the dust.’ He, in a move that seemed to be almost subconsciously seeking out comfort himself, reached out to Luke once more, before catching himself with a start. Luke was having none of it though and leaned his head towards the hand in an implicit invitation. The hair brushing had been nice, and damn it, they could both use the comfort right now.</p><p>Thankfully, Vader seemed to get the message as he slowly reached out  and resumed softly petting Luke's hair, Luke closing his eyes in satisfaction. Another staticky sigh heralded the continuation of Vader's story, and Luke cracked open one eye to look back up at the man, grateful that the comforting touch was still there while the hesitation in the man skyrocketed.</p><p>‘You were… heavily injured,’ Vader continued, and that hardly made any sense to Luke. If he had been so badly injured, why did he feel mostly fine-ish right now?</p><p>‘I… sensed your distress and ordered for medical attention to be prepared for you while I rushed to your side,’ the man continued. ‘But when I arrived, the damage had already been done, and all I could do was bring you to the Medics for healing. You were rushed in for emergency surgery to prepare the worst of your wounds for bacta submersion—’ and here Luke's eyes widened. They’d used a <em>bacta tank</em> for him? The things that normally cost three limbs and a heart just to use <em>once?</em> ‘—And you were placed inside. It has… been little over a day since then, little one, and the Medics say you are recovering most admirably.’</p><p>Something was missing there, Luke noted. Something was missing and it was raising his levels of unease from high to <em>so</em> much worse. What was missing?</p><p>‘Vader? What… happened to me?’ he asked carefully, once more taking stock of what could be wrong with his body, now at least having an explanation for the oddly tacky sensation on some parts of his body. Bacta patches, if he had to guess.</p><p>That question prompted Vader to produce a sound from his vocoder that Luke had never heard before but that the accompanying spike of anxiety and grief immediately made him mark it down as the worst of the worst of sounds. The man’s shoulders hunched inwards as he leaned a little closer to Luke, looking like he was trying to block the whole world out.</p><p>‘Vader?’ he asked again.</p><p>‘I…’ the man began, halting and hesitant. ‘I first need to tell you that this will be a shock, little one,’ he said carefully, ‘And that—’ he cut himself off, visibly weighing his words and finding them wanting with another sigh. ‘I am sorry, little one,’ he said at last, ‘For… the knowledge you are about to receive.’</p><p>Luke's anxiety shot through the roof, but at last Vader seemed intent on ripping off the band aid. He sighed, and hesitantly pulled his hand back from Luke's hair. ‘Your injuries,’ he began, still gentle, but much surer now, if not infinitely more morose, ‘Were extensive. Many were able to be treated with the bacta submersion. All of them, in fact. Except for… one,’ he revealed, only a short pause betraying his hesitation. ‘The Medics assume your right arm got caught in the blast, even more so than the rest of your body, and it… paid the price.’</p><p>No. Luke began to gain a heavy suspicion of where this was going and <em>no.</em></p><p>But Vader forged onwards, even as Luke began regretting asking in the first place. ‘It, part of it, was destroyed beyond repair, little one. There was nothing left to heal and they… they had to amputate it.’</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>‘My deepest apologies.’</p><p>He closed his eyes, his throat thick and rawer than ever as he swallowed, trying to feel his right arm, still so very numb—</p><p>Not numb.</p><p>Not <em>numb.</em></p><p>
  <em>Gone.</em>
</p><p>He stifled a sob in his throat as tried to shift it, pressure and sensations all in the wrong places and— and—</p><p>
  <em>It was gone.</em>
</p><p>Suns <em>Fire</em>, it was <em>gone.</em></p><p>Another sob hitched in his throat and his lungs constricted and he couldn’t feel his hand and wouldn’t ever feel it again because it was gone, gone, <em>gone—</em></p><p>‘…Luke?’ a concerned voice rumbled out, hesitantly.</p><p>He blinked open his eyes again and turned towards the source of the voice even as tears stung in the corners of his eyes. Vader loomed over him, noticeably closer than before and he must’ve shifted closer while Luke wasn’t paying attention because his hand was gone <em>and he couldn’t feel it—</em></p><p>‘Luke, little one, please <em>breathe,’</em> the man rumbled out urgently as he ran a hand through Luke's hair again.</p><p>Breathe?</p><p><em>‘Please,</em> Luke.’</p><p>Breathe.</p><p>Sucking in a deep breath, Luke noticed how immediately the world seemed a little clearer and lighter and hadn’t he been breathing?</p><p>‘Exactly like that, little one,’ Vader murmured, still threading a hand through his hair, the touch grounding him even as his mind raced. ‘In and out. Just those simple steps. In.’</p><p>Luke breathed in.</p><p>He hadn’t been breathing.</p><p>‘And out.’</p><p>He breathed out.</p><p>He hadn’t been breathing, because his hand was gone.</p><p>‘In.’</p><p>He breathed in.</p><p>His hand was gone, but Vader was helping him breathe again.</p><p>‘Out.’</p><p>He breathed out.</p><p>Vader was helping.</p><p>He could trust him.</p><p>He <em>did</em> trust him.</p><p>He breathed in.</p><p>‘Exactly like that, little one,’ Vader muttered encouragingly, still petting Luke's hair. ‘Exactly like that. You are doing wonderfully well. Just <em>keep breathing.’</em></p><p>He could do that. He could do that for Vader. His hand might be gone, but he could still breathe like Vader was telling him to. Slowly, and with more stops and starts than was probably strictly normal, Luke evened out his breathing again under the softly murmured encouragements of Vader, the man’s presence enveloping him and urging him on while he did so.</p><p>Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Eventually he fully calmed down, and Vader stopped muttering while he slowly breathed, allowing them to sit in silence for a moment. Luke closed his eyes again, just for a bit, and concentrated on the feeling of a black gloved hand gently stroking through his hair, his breathing slowly falling back into a steady, subconscious pattern.</p><p>When he opened his eyes again, the thick, constricting feeling of panic was gone, even as a heavy blanket of mixed grief and various complicated emotions still hung in the air.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he muttered, blinking up at the red lenses still fixated on him. ‘That helped.’</p><p>The hand in his hair froze for a moment, just a moment, before carefully resuming, the vocoder producing a sound like whistling wind. ‘And thank you, little one,’ he returned quietly. ‘You listened well.’</p><p>He smiled softly at the man, and for a moment, despite the mask, Luke got the impression of a smile returned, as fondness washed over him. His smile weakened as he remembered his situation, and once more the melancholy set in, though this time without the panic.</p><p>‘It… it’s really gone, isn’t it?’ he asked brokenly, not quite sure <em>why</em> he asked it, but needing to hear Vader say it.</p><p>A gust of static in a long sigh confirmed it as well as any words could, but Vader nodded nonetheless. ‘Yes, little one. It is. I am… so sorry.’</p><p>Like an unwelcome sandstorm blowing into the cracks of a house, reality seeped into his mind and settled in. He sighed, head rolling slightly on his pillow as resignation warred with grief. ‘Was there really no other way?’ he asked quietly, not even sure what he wanted the answer to be.</p><p>Vader hesitated, but then shook his head. ‘No, little one,’ he denied sadly, ‘There wasn’t. By the time I had reached you, the explosion and subsequent fire had already torn off your hand and ruined much of the bone and tissue of you forearm. With haste, luck, and much skill, they were able to save parts of your arm, but they couldn’t restore what was no longer there. There was… nothing to be done.’</p><p>Nothing to be done…</p><p>Luke wasn’t sure if that was the best or worst answer he could’ve expected, but it was the answer he got.</p><p>‘You keep saying that you’re sorry,’ he noted distantly, not really sure why he was fixating on that phrase other than that he didn’t like it. ‘Why is that?’</p><p>Vader visibly tensed, his whole body going rigid as if shocked, and immediately Luke's sense stood on high alert as he felt overwhelming guilt and regret billow out from the man’s presence.</p><p>‘Vader?’ he asked, concern rising up like thermals on the midday salt pans.</p><p>The man shifted uncomfortably in a manner so out of character that Luke instantly, irrationally, worried that he was about to receive the news of having lost another limb besides his arm. But then the man spoke, and all such worries vanished.</p><p>‘I… apologize,’ Vader began, clearly discomforted, ‘Because I regret not— not being able to spare you this grief. And for being so terribly ill-suited to all… this.’</p><p>Oh. ‘That’s nonsense,’ Luke blurted out before he was able to stop himself, and he nearly wanted to smack himself for his bluntness when Vader reared back with a start, shock permeating the air, but he’d said it so now he had to own it. ‘You did all you could,’ he stated, utterly confident in that statement as fact beyond a shadow of doubt. ‘And— and there is no one else I would rather have here right now, than— than you,’ he confessed, voice trailing off from confident into something much quieter and shyer, but with no less truth in it.</p><p>‘I…’ Vader faltered, and Luke drew some small measure of pride from the fact that he had clearly not been expecting Luke's declaration. ‘You… really believe that,’ he said at last, bafflement and wonderment warring against one another in the air around him.</p><p>‘Of course I do,’ Luke asserted firmly, earlier morosity abating a little with the distracting opportunity of prying open his mentor’s shell a little further. ‘It’s the truth.’</p><p>Vader stared at him in silence for a moment, bafflement and wonder slowly morphing together into a shocked awe. ‘You— you—’ He shook his head and huff of static burst out of the vocoder. ‘You are truly something unique, little star,’ he said at last, warm resignation and hopeful affection dancing together like wind sprites.</p><p>Luke flushed to the roots of his hair and tried to sink down further under the blankets. ‘’m not that special,’ he muttered quietly, his face feeling like he’d gone out under the midday Suns without proper gear.</p><p>‘You are,’ Vader countered fondly. ‘Force, child, you truly are.’</p><p>Wanting to counter that he wasn’t a child, but also realizing that in Vader's eyes his eighteen years were probably little to nothing, Luke huffed and kept silent, studiously ignoring the silent amusement that chimed around Vader and nudged against him like an affectionate loth-cat.</p><p>Stewing in his own thoughts for a bit longer, he couldn’t ignore how the levity slowly sapped out of the air when reality came sinking back in.</p><p>He’d lost a hand.</p><p>Now what would become of him?</p><p>He couldn’t work on mechanics with only one, non-dominant hand. Not at the necessary skill level to be Head Engineer and with who-knows-how-little adjusting time. He might be able to continue making schematics and such, but those had never been his strong suit. He was best at actually <em>making</em> things instead of only drafting <em>how</em> to make things. So what would happen? Would he be fired? Sent back home? Dropped off at the next planet and told to figure it out?</p><p>Okay, maybe not that last one, he didn’t think Vader would ever stand for that. But the rest? What if—</p><p>‘You are ruminating rather intensely on something, little one,’ Vader idly noted, startling Luke out of his musings. ‘Is there something bothering you. Besides the obvious, that is?’</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Luke admitted quietly. ‘I just… what now?’</p><p>Vader was silent for a moment, and Luke got the distinct impression of confused blinking. ‘Elaborate on that if you would, Luke.’</p><p>Luke huffed slightly. ‘I mean, what’s going to happen to me now? I can’t work with just one hand, not unless I find some really crafty workarounds, and I don’t— I don’t know—’ He breathed deeply, the possibilities overwhelming him but refusing to breakdown over this. ‘…I don’t want to have to leave,’ he eventually admitted, voice smaller than he ever wanted it to be.</p><p>He refused to cry over this, not yet, not now, but the tears already stung in the corners of his eyes at the mere thought of having to say farewell to the Lady and everyone aboard. Erribas, Gearbox, Captain Piett, General Veers, Cody, Appo, and so, so many others. And Vader…</p><p>Above all else, he didn’t want to have to say goodbye to Vader and have to go back to the life he had before he met the strange and mysterious man. Not after all that they’d been through only just recently.</p><p>His spiraling thoughts were interrupted when a flurry of static sounded from his side. ‘Oh, little one,’ Vader muttered, carding a hand through Luke's hair with all the gentleness of someone handling something unbearably fragile and precious. ‘Even if you could never work another day in your life, you would never be made to leave here. Not unless you wanted to.’</p><p>Luke peeked up at the man through messy bangs, mused into his face by Vader's gentle but heavy hand. ‘Really?’ He didn’t care if the question was childish or sounded insecure, right now, he needed the reassurance more than anything while he was vulnerable in so many ways.</p><p>‘Of course, little star,’ Vader replied, thumb rubbing soothingly over Luke's brow. ‘You, just as you are, will <em>always</em> be welcome here. That I promise.’</p><p>And he wasn’t going to cry over this, not when he had so many better things to cry over, but damnit if it wasn’t a close thing.</p><p>Vader <em>cared.</em> And while he had always known that, this spoke of a level of affection that was wholly separate from what they had started out and whispered of something new, the place in the back of his mind filled with song and light and something that felt fundamentally <em>right.</em></p><p>Vader cared and wasn’t going to send him away. Wasn’t <em>ever</em> going to send him away, as the promise the man made hummed with vibrant and crystal-clear <em>truth.</em></p><p>He gave the man a smile that was probably on the watery side, and closed his eyes as he nudged into the hand still resting on his head, the air so full of warmth and affection and care from the both of them that he didn’t know where the one began and the other ended. This was what he had hoped for, a small week ago when he held a tree in his lap and dared to dream about what it meant.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he whispered quietly.</p><p>Vader rumbled out a chuckle. ‘No need, little one,’ he murmured back. ‘This is a wholly selfish decision, I assure you.’</p><p>Luke cracked open an eye and smiled at the man. ‘No more selfish than my wish to stay, I bet.’</p><p>The dark man hummed in agreement. ‘Then we shall be selfish in this choice together,’ he noted. ‘And learn altruism another day.’</p><p>‘Mh,’ Luke hummed as he closed his eye again, ‘I like that idea.’</p><p>Static rolled like thunder, and Luke's mouth twitched into a smile as Vader laughed. ‘Your approval is noted, little one,’ he said, mock-seriously, a teasing edge curling around the words. ‘But as for your question…’</p><p>Luke opened his eyes and made a questioning sound at the man. There was more?</p><p>Vader huffed. ‘As it stands, little star, you have more options than you think. The Medics examined your arm after your treatment ran its course, and they concluded that you are a textbook-perfect candidate for a neural-connected prosthesis.’</p><p>Wait what.</p><p>‘It would require an additional surgery to install the connector ports,’ Vader continued, oblivious to Luke's growing shock. ‘And there are other options for prostheses if you decide against that one. But if you choose for a neural-connection, you would be able to regain some sense of touch in your right hand, as well as operate it as if it were a flesh-and-blood limb.’ Vader went quiet for a moment, before hesitantly continuing. ‘It would also help reduce phantom limb pains by a significant margin,’ he added quietly.</p><p>Luke's mind whirled as he tried to process the new information. Neural-connectors? Touch-sensitive prostheses? Phantom pains? Options? <em>What?</em></p><p>‘I— I don’t know—’ he stammered out, feeling thoroughly overwhelmed. He was getting a <em>prosthesis?</em> Scratch that, he was getting a <em>neural-connected prosthesis!?</em> Since when!?</p><p>‘You do not need to,’ Vader assured him. ‘There is time before you have to contemplate any decisions, little one, and both the Medics and I will lend you our knowledge of the various options to help you make an informed decision that suits what you need. Whether that be a neural-connected prosthesis, a non-connected prosthesis, or even no prosthesis at all.’</p><p>And that was another slew of information, but on particular line in it stood out to him like a flashing neon sign.</p><p>‘You will lend me your knowledge?’ he asked, rather befuddled. ‘What do you mean by that?’</p><p>Amusement flitted through the air and Vader chuckled at Luke's question. ‘Luke, I have four prosthetic limbs and am nearly two-thirds machinery of various kinds. I would hope that I have some knowledge to share on this subject.’</p><p>
  <em>What!?</em>
</p><p>Vader tilted his head. ‘No need to shout, little one.’</p><p>Damn it, spoken out loud again.</p><p>While Luke felt like he was having something of an existential crisis as he tried to comprehend the information he had just gained on his mentor, Vader carefully untangled his fingers from Luke's hair and began pulling off the glove covering his right hand.</p><p>Wide-eyed, Luke watched as the glove was pulled away to reveal a mechanical hand, slowly clenching in and out of a fist. It was… utilitarian, was the way Luke would describe it. All angles and straight lines with only the minimal amount of curves necessary to mimic a human hand. It moved and bent with impressive realism, though Luke saw now where the hand sometimes faltered and stuttered, as if a servo was getting stuck.</p><p>Apparently satisfied that he had thoroughly spellbound Luke, Vader huffed out a small gust of staticky laughter and slid the glove back on, securing it in place once more. ‘Of course, I possess an older model,’ he said conversationally and like he hadn’t just blown Luke's mind into tiny bits. ‘You will be receiving the latest in cutting-edge technology should you choose to opt for a neural-connected prosthesis. But even so, my experience should still be relevant enough to provide you with some insight into this situation should you so choose to ask for it.’</p><p>‘I— I—’ Luke stammered, his mind feeling like it was skipping beats and freezing like an overtaxed computer at the same time.</p><p>‘Like I said,’ Vader continued gently. ‘There is no need to make a decision at the moment, little one. Just know that when the time comes and you <em>are</em> ready to choose, you will have options.’</p><p>And oddly enough, despite the fact that they were talking about a lost limb Luke hadn’t fully internalized yet, that statement did reassure him. Vader would be there to help him. Vader understood what he was going through perhaps better than anyone else. That was— for now, that was enough.</p><p>Heaving in a shuddering breath, Luke nodded. ‘Okay, I— I see. I think.’</p><p>Vader brushed a hand over his hair and the air around him was steeped in warmth and understanding. ‘And you need not do any more than that, Luke,’ he reassured. ‘The time will come for contemplation, but for now, your task is to heal and recover. And to that end, I advise you to put this matter out of mind for the moment.’</p><p>He nodded slowly, even as he thought that it would be a tough task indeed to forget about the matter that would be the replacement of his limb, but he vowed to try anyway. But before he did that, there was one more thing he needed to do that had been bugging him for while. It… probably wasn’t a good idea, but he just— he <em>needed</em> to— even if—</p><p>‘Vader?’ he asked in the end, making his mind up.</p><p>Vader tilted his head closer and nodded, curiosity flickering through the air in short bursts. ‘Yes, little star?’</p><p>He breathed in, deeply, and let it all out. ‘Can you help me sit up? I just—’ he continued, before the man could interrupt, ‘I need to see it. I— it needs to be <em>real.’</em></p><p>‘Luke—’ Vader began, worry and admonishment clear in his voice.</p><p>‘Please?’ Luke asked quickly. ‘I just— I just need to know. I need to see it and know that it— that it’s <em>me.’</em></p><p>That seemed to strike a nerve with Vader, and the man tangibly wavered in his resolve. ‘It will only distress you needlessly, little one,’ he protested quietly, but Luke could feel that his heart wasn’t entirely in it.</p><p>‘It will distress me no matter when I see it for the first time, don’t you think?’ Luke countered with a nervous laugh that he didn’t really feel. In truth, he was terrified. Terrified of it becoming real and being left with no way to pretend that it wasn’t, but he couldn’t run from this. Wouldn’t ever be able to, seeing as it was a part of him in the most literal sense.</p><p>Vader hesitated, and for a moment, Luke thought that the man was going to refuse after all, and he felt the little bit of courage he had left sink into his stomach. If the man refused again, he didn’t know if he’d have the will to continue asking for something that he knew would hurt him in ways he wouldn’t really understand, but that he equally knew he’d have to deal with sooner rather than later.</p><p>Thankfully, that moment didn’t come, and Vader capitulated with a weary and tentative nod.</p><p>Breathing a sigh of relief, Luke watched as Vader shifted closer to his bed, turning sideways slightly to give him a better angle to help Luke sit up. ‘Alright then, little one,’ he said, ‘I am… uncertain of the wisdom of this decision, but if you will not be deterred, I will assist. If you are ready?’</p><p>Luke nodded his assent, and with careful hands, Vader began to help him sit up, supporting his weight as best he could while Luke hauled himself up, very studiously avoiding using his still numb and strangely feeling right arm to assist him.</p><p>The room was freezing, which he noticed as the thick blanket that had covered him began to fall away, but at his first shiver Vader freed up a hand to keep it tucked up against him, warding off the cold. It took some further maneuvering and some use of Vader's strange abilities to shift Luke into a position that had him propped up against the headboard of his bed, a pillow tucked into his back. The blanket, so far, had kept the offending limb covered, and now that the moment was there, Luke was hesitant to remove it. Scared to face this new reality that he, deep down, didn’t want to believe was real yet.</p><p>‘You do not have to do this yet, little star,’ Vader reminded him gently. ‘There is no shame in acknowledging when you are not yet ready.’</p><p>He didn’t want to believe it was real yet. But it was, and reality was only a couple layers of fabric removed from him.</p><p>He breathed in deeply and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think— I don’t think I’d be able to rest until I did this. It’d haunt me.’</p><p>‘…Then you are far braver than most, little one, for confronting your demons,’ Vader told him, quiet pride twinkling in the air like distant stars, and Luke glanced briefly at the man, his own courage bolstered by Vader's praise, even as he was scared out of his mind. ‘When you are ready,’ the man told him, and kept a firm hand on his shoulder in quiet support, holding Luke closer than usual.</p><p>Luke nodded, but didn’t look up from where he was staring at the blanket that obscured where his right arm was. And where it wasn’t.</p><p>Breathing deeply one last time—<em>mind be still, and heart be strong</em>—he lifted his left arm, drew the covers back, and—</p><p>Oh Suns.</p><p>Oh fucking <em>Suns.</em></p><p>For a moment, Luke thought that his brain might choose to simply make him pass out instead of process what it saw. It certainly felt like his head was swaying side to side even as he knew for a fact that it was frozen as stiff as the rest of him, staring at the sight in front of him.</p><p>His first, coherent thought, was that it almost looked… normal. Just a rounded shape wrapped entirely in bacta bandages, a little past his elbow, perhaps a little flat at the top.</p><p>Then he twitched his arm, and <em>the shape twitched too and oh Suns where was his hand—!?</em></p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, needing to recollect his thought and just— not look at that for a moment. Oh Suns, oh Moons, oh <em>fuck—</em></p><p>He heaved in a shuddering breath, gulping in air like his life depended on it and only grounded by the firm, heavy touch of Vader's hands on his shoulders. He was fine. He wasn’t in any pain. And this? This too would pass. Eventually. But—</p><p>But it was <em>gone.</em></p><p>His hand was <em>gone</em> and— and—</p><p>Tears began gathering in the corners of his eyes again for the umpteenth time since he had woken up into this waking nightmare and this time, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to stop them.</p><p>His <em>hand</em> was <em>gone</em> and it was never coming back, and he would get a prosthesis but—</p><p>He brought his left hand to his mouth and bit down to stifle a sob, the world blurring before his eyes as the tears began to gather. Oh Suns and <em>sand,</em> what had <em>happened</em> to him?</p><p>And then there was black reaching into his vision, a gloved hand curling around his wrist and gently trying to tug the bitten limb from between his teeth and suddenly he could hear the quiet comforts being muttered to him.</p><p>‘—easy, little one, please, do not harm yourself like this. You will get through this, I promise. You are strong, stronger than you know, and this too will pass. It will pass, little one, it will pass and you will still be there when it does, as strong as you ever are, but do not hurt yourself now. Please, little one, <em>let go—'  </em></p><p>And suddenly his fist was no longer clenched between his teeth and there was nothing to stifle the sob that ripped from his throat, the bandaged stump blurring in front of his eyes into a white haze as the tears finally spilled over. It was too much. Too much to deal with, and then his shoulders were shaking with the power of the sobs that wracked through him, any effort to try and quiet them futile in the face of reality finally setting in.</p><p>He had lost his hand, and there was nothing to be done.</p><p>Shaking his head in futile denial that he no longer believed, he couldn’t so much as bring out a sound beyond helpless, inconsolable cries, tears slipping down his face and leaving wet trails in their wake. There was nothing to be done. Nothing but cry and grieve what was no longer there.</p><p>So he let go and <em>screamed</em> out his grief.</p><p>Raw, hoarse, it was a scream that held no elegance, no dignity, no grace. It was furious and distraught, miserable and helpless, sheer anguish all packed together into something gut-wrenchingly primal, the cry of wounded prey and the snarl of a trapped predator in one.</p><p>Why?</p><p>Why <em>him?</em></p><p>Why did it have to be <em>him?</em></p><p>It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t <em>done</em> anything to deserve this!</p><p>it wasn’t <em>fair,</em> it <em>wasn’t—</em></p><p>Strong hands gripped him tighter and pulled him in, Luke going along willingly and burying his face into the cloth of a mantle, his one other arm wrapping around Vader in turn and holding on as tightly as he could. Leather clad arms wrapped tightly around him, one hand flat on his back and pressing him closer, while the other came up to cradle his head. The embrace was hard, firm, and so, so warm. The air muffled down until Luke could hear nothing but his own sobs, Vader's endlessly cycling respirator, and the soft comforts the man mumbled to him while he held Luke close.</p><p>‘I am here, little one,’ he murmured, Luke barely understanding the words over his own crying. ‘I am here, I am not leaving. I promise, I am not. Just let it out, and you will feel better. Let it out.’</p><p>Screaming again, Luke buried his face into the mantle, the sound muffled by the fabric but no less raw. His right arm was folded awkwardly against Vader's chest, tucked under his mentor’s control box instead of flailing around wildly like his instincts were screaming at him to do, but his mentor was rumbling at him like the thunder and hugging him close like nothing else mattered in the world, so it was ignorable. It was. It had to be.</p><p>A hand rubbed over his back in soothing circles, but it did nothing to calm him down, tears still raining down his face and his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, only that his grief seemed endless and his body tireless as he sobbed and wailed and screamed and cried. He shook his head against Vader's shoulder and held the man as tight as he could, the arms around him tightening in response and cradling him even closer to a black armored chest.</p><p>It <em>hurt,</em> damn it!</p><p>It hurt, and it hurt in ways and places that bacta could never reach or cure. Deep, deep down, where mind met matter and reality was nothing more than atoms. It hurt there, and he didn’t know how to make it <em>stop</em> or even if he could.</p><p>Which wasn’t <em>fair.</em> None of this was fucking <em>fair.</em></p><p>And there was nothing that could make it fair. He would just have to live with it and that— that just—</p><p>
  <em>Why!?</em>
</p><p>And then he heard it.</p><p>Distant and drifting through the air like a haunting, the words were strange, but he recognized them instantly. A song that he hadn’t heard Aunt Beru sing ever since he was a child, scared that he would be taken away by the snatcher squads and terrified to go to sleep. A lullaby of the Desert.</p><p>
  <em>‘Child of my heart, do not fear the night. It whispers in darkness and hides us from sight. The Masters cannot find us, and She is our guide. So keep calm, keep calm, and run for your life.’</em>
</p><p>It was nice to listen to, and he remembered even as a child that he memorized the words to sing quietly to himself just— just in case. Just in case he would need it. Just in case he was alone. Just in case he would <em>have</em> to be alone.</p><p>
  <em>‘Child of my soul, are you still there? I know life is hard, and a burden to bear. But we are Free in this darkness, and Free we will stay. Do not let the Masters lead you astray.’</em>
</p><p>A calmness washed over him, and he remembered how the same had also happened when his Aunt had sung it to him. He knew that the song was longer than the version he knew, but whenever the song was sung to him, he was already at his limits and tired and would fall asleep soon after.</p><p>
  <em>‘Child of my love, we gather unseen. In the dark places where the rats are so lean. But here we can plan, here we are Free. So open your ears, Child, and listen to me.’</em>
</p><p>The song sounded strange though. Rasping, halting strangely, with stops and starts that were so far from the airy way his Aunt had sung it, and yet, there was something haunting about it. Something that was lulling him to sleep as surely as the Moons danced through the sky in their endless circling dance. And he was so tired already…</p><p>
  <em>‘Child of my heart, remember, knock thrice. On the doors marked with one truth, one truth, and two lies. The first for your Name, that no one will know. The second and third, so that safety will grow.’</em>
</p><p>It was almost hypnotic, how the words calmed him down, the screaming and raging quieted until he was left only hiccupping in miserable grief, his energy spent and his body reminding him that he was still left so, so weak with wounds as fresh as his. Bacta may work miracles, but it was no match for the shock of trauma.</p><p>
  <em>‘Child of my soul, these are the words. Take them to Freedom and tell them in thirds. Our hearts, our souls, our love are our own. No one can take them, to Masters unknown.’</em>
</p><p>He settled in to listen, tucking his arms into his side and melting fully into the tight embrace. His Aunt had always said that this had been his Grandmother’s favorite song, and she would sing it whenever the time was right. During Sandstorms, during wakes, during the long nights of the wet season. According to her, it reminded her of her son.</p><p>
  <em>‘Child of my love, we will walk Free in the Suns. Just watch for the chances that allow us our runs. They will grant you your wings, and lead you away. Through the Desert, beyond here…’</em>
</p><p>He remembered the night before he’d left for the Lady. His Aunt had cooked him his favorite dish and his Uncle had gifted him with a new knife to keep in his boot. And then they’d sat him down and told him to be careful, to be wary, to be <em>smart.</em> But, if he truly believed in it, and saw a chance for something more, to grasp it with both hands and <em>not</em> let go.</p><p>
  <em>‘…and promise me…’</em>
</p><p>He’d promised them he would, and when he had finally met Vader—the <em>real</em> Vader, not the front he put up for so many people—he’d known immediately that this was something special. Known in a way that couldn’t be explained, but that felt right, and was never wrong.</p><p>
  <em>‘…promise me…’</em>
</p><p>So he’d gone, and he’d tried, and he kept at it even when Vader was difficult because he could <em>see</em> the man under the mask. Could see who was hidden beyond black plastisteel and red lenses and was proven <em>right</em> when Vader slowly, tentatively began to open up to him.</p><p>
  <em>‘…promise me…’</em>
</p><p>And now they were here, and Vader was holding him close in an embrace that was as warm and strong as it was filled with affection and care. The world felt so far away, and his body had cried out all its energy along with the grief, anger, and frustration. He was tired, so tired, and his eyes were already falling shut. And Vader was warm and steady and holding him tight.</p><p>
  <em>‘…that you will not stay.’</em>
</p><p>His last thought before falling asleep was that he’d never known Vader could sing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then, here we are. Luke is awake once more, and while he'll be working through a lot in the coming couple of chapters, he won't ever be alone in it. And before you ask; yes, that actually was Vader singing a lullaby to Luke. We'll see his thought process on that next week, when I'll see you all on Sunday again with a brand new chapter. Until then!</p><p>EDIT: Ah heck, it seems I miscalculated. Next chapter is a Piett chapter, and <i>after</i> that we have a Vader chapter again. In my defense, it's a good one.</p><p>(If anyone wants to hear the lullaby being sung by an angel, you can hear it being sung <a href="https://jackdaw-kraai.tumblr.com/post/639702182419120128/superirlstuff-this-is-a-lullaby-from">here</a> by the lovely Soup and <a href="https://jackdaw-kraai.tumblr.com/post/640560036406607872/gods-im-surrounded-by-people-with-way-too-much">here</a> by the incredible SmolAvidReader! (who is also my Padawan, and I'm very proud of them ^.^))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Reality Stranger Than Fiction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Piett has a very long day, and in the process learns a whole heck of a lot about everyone and everything around him. More than he wants to, really. So let us join him for this high-octane day, shall we?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright, here we are! And apparently I miscalculated as Vader's chapter comes <i>after</i> this one, and forgot poor Piett in the process. Whoops?<br/>Still, it's an enjoyable chapter and we make some good headway in the investigation. Or we appear to, at least.</p><p>No trigger warnings for this chapter as far as I can tell, so enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stalking through the hallways of the Lady with a Stormtrooper Commander hot on his heels, Firmus Piett was positively fuming.</p><p>Having just returned from a fruitless endeavor in the security center aboard the Lady, he knew with certainty that the explosion that had nearly cost Lars his life was about as much of an accident as he was an Imperial Center food critic.</p><p><em>‘Erased,’</em> Commander Appo spat as he shadowed Piett's side. ‘Who the hell could’ve ordered the records cache of the main hangar <em>erased?’</em></p><p>‘That is what I would like to know as well, Commander,’ he ground out. ‘But it <em>will</em> take time for the Security Officers to dig through the archive of general orders for the name of the culprit. Time that can best be spent making a battle plan so that the culprit doesn’t slip through the cracks.’</p><p>A frustrated noise emanated from within the Trooper’s helmet, and Piett faintly noted that the only reason he himself was not growling like the Commander was because he had someone to keep up appearances for. ‘I know, sir,’ the Trooper retorted irritably. ‘But this was <em>planned.</em> This wasn’t someone acting on a moronic or opportunistic impulse. Someone on-board wants the Armorer <em>dead.’</em></p><p><em>‘I know,</em> Commander,’ he snapped back, temper short with him as well as he glared back at the Trooper. ‘And I would appreciate it if you could watch your tone seeing as I am not the culprit nor agree with their actions.’</p><p>Appo ducked his head and nodded sheepishly. ‘Sorry, sir.’</p><p>Nodding his acknowledgment of the apology, he turned his eyes up front once more and continued their brisk pace down the hall towards the medical wing. Honestly, it was the last place he ever wanted to be, even disregarding its current occupants, but this could not wait in any way, shape, or form.</p><p>The Commander was right—someone wanted Lars dead. And considering that the culprit was able to access the workshop despite the high security level on the place, it stood to reason that they would easily be able to access the recovery ward of the medical wing, where Lars was currently lying weakened and vulnerable. It was too good of an opportunity for whomever wanted the young man dead, and security measures would need to be taken immediately.</p><p>After that, he would have to initiate a lockdown on the ship. No shuttles would be permitted to fly to or from the Lady without being looked over with a fine-toothed comb. No personnel would be cleared to leave unless they could provide a rock-solid alibi as to their whereabouts and activities. All outgoing communications would be blocked and there would likely be a curfew as well. The crew would hate it, and all the better for that. It would give them an incentive to root out the traitor and approach their commanding Officers with any information they might find or possess.</p><p>But before all that, there was one task that needed to be completed above all else and that he dreaded just as much.</p><p>He would have to give a report to Lord Vader about his findings.</p><p>And there was absolutely no chance in this world or any other that his Commander would take it well.</p><p>His one saving grace, however, was that Lord Vader, for all his numerous homicidal tendencies, didn’t shoot— or well, <em>choke</em> the messenger. Regardless of the severity of the news delivered, Piett had never once seen or heard of Lord Vader subjecting his ire on anyone but the ones ultimately responsible for the mistake or offense. The underlings who had carried out bad orders or otherwise been made complicit in gross incompetence were never the ones who had to fear Lord Vader's wrath.</p><p>And that, he hoped and prayed to whatever would listen, would save him as well, since he had no doubt that his Lordship’s rage in this particular case would be nothing less than <em>incandescent.</em></p><p>Suppressing a shiver, Piett gave their destination to the Trooper manning the elevator station that would bring them to the medical wing. As he and the Commander stepped into the elevator, he went over what they knew so far.</p><p>A dust explosion had destroyed the 3D printing room and had occurred because someone had deliberately tampered with the hermetic seals on the printer, with Lyvon and their team looking for possible other tampering.  Their request for the data cache of the main hangar’s security records had revealed that a general order for a data wipe of the cache had come in two days ago, ostensibly due to reconfigurations happening within the hangar under the Head Engineer’s orders.</p><p>Something which was a blatant lie now that it was looked back on, but the order had been carried out at the time since it had all the proper authorization codes required and Lars’ reputation for eccentricity and out-of-the-box solutions to issues had made it so that no one questioned the need.</p><p>Thus, they were now at the point where there was a traitor and attempted murderer loose on the Lady with no one the wiser.</p><p>Piett sighed as the elevator doors slid open. This was going to be a longer day than he had even been able to suspect that morning.</p><p>Stepping out as the elevator doors opened, he noted that despite the sudden influx of patients there must’ve been yesterday, there was hardly anyone within the lobby of the elevator station just outside of the medical wing. Only a few scattered Crewmates here and there that were walking to or from the medical wing’s main entrance with fast paces and hunted mannerisms. Which… likely didn’t bode well for what was going on within.</p><p>This feeling was reinforced when he stepped up the reception desk and asked to be allowed to visit a patient.</p><p>‘And who are you planning to visit—’ the man at the reception desk gave a quick glance at his bars ‘—Captain?’</p><p>He breathed in deeply. ‘Lord Vader. I have a report to give that absolutely cannot wait.’</p><p>The man blinked at him once, twice, thrice before sighing and nodding his head. ‘Captain Piett,’ he greeted. ‘Lord Vader is no longer a patient admitted here.’ He snorted disbelievingly, ‘If he ever really was, but I’ll have Medic Kix come down to direct you to him. Force knows that he’s your best shot.’</p><p>Piett wanted to ask at <em>what</em> the Medic was his best shot, but the receptionist had already turned away and activated his comm with a speed that spoke of years of practice and very little fucks left to give. ‘Medic Kix to the front desk, please,’ he droned monotonously. ‘There is one Captain Piett here who wishes to speak to Lord Vader.’ Then he turned back to Piett. ‘Anything else, sir?’</p><p>‘No, thank you,’ he replied in his blandest tone, not about to be outdone. ‘That is all.’</p><p>The receptionist nodded and gestured towards the main entrance where the hallways led deeper into the medical wing, a seating area flanking both sides. ‘Please wait there.’</p><p>Well then. He glanced at the Commander who was still standing closely behind him, and nodded over to the seats. ‘After you, Commander.’</p><p>Sitting themselves down in the waiting area’s highly uncomfortable chairs, Piett began sorting through the various files that he’d acquired in the last few hours. A backup file of the security data cache of the main hangar, or what was left of it. A construction and operating manual on the 3D printer that had been sabotaged. The personnel files on everyone who was working in the shift when the order for the erasure came in, from the Commanding Officer to the janitorial staff. And, privately, a list of people he would suspect had the motive to do something like this, if not the skills.</p><p>It wasn’t very long until fast paced footsteps sounded in the hallway behind the main entrance, and sure enough, when he looked up, there was a familiar clone soldier in a Medic’s uniform marching straight towards them. Standing up to greet the man, he was gratified when they exchanged quick salutes and the man instantly jumped to business, with only a quick exchange with his brother standing next to Piett.</p><p>‘Captain Piett, sir,’ Kix said as he nodded sharply. ‘We can talk as we walk, sir, but there’s likely to be less prying eyes and ears within the main wing than in the lobby.’</p><p>‘Agreed,’ he said, stepping up to join the Medic. ‘And this isn’t really news to be leaked before an official statement can be made in either case, Medic Kix.’</p><p>The man pressed his mouth into a thin line, but inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘I was afraid you would say something like that, sir,’ he muttered lowly. ‘Come on then, I will take you to Lord Vader.’</p><p>With that, they began walking down the long hallways at a brisk pace.</p><p>‘First things first, Medic Kix,’ Piett said once they were a decent way into the medical wing and he couldn’t spot anyone in their immediate surroundings. ‘As a senior Medic within these ranks, you have some form of authority, correct?’</p><p>Kix shot him a wary look, but nodded slowly. ‘Correct,’ he answered. ‘But it depends on what you are about to ask if it will be enough authority to hold sway, Captain.’</p><p>‘I ask that you increase security around, and restrict access to Engineer Lars,’ Piett said bluntly. ‘Let not one single unauthorized and unscreened person interact with him and make sure that no one is ever left alone with him in the room.’</p><p>Kix stopped dead in his tracks and pivoted sharply on his heel. ‘What,’ he said flatly.</p><p>Piett gave the Medic a look that brokered no arguments and soldiered on. ‘We have strong reason to believe that the explosion that injured Lars was far from an accident,’ he admitted quietly, keeping half an eye on his surroundings. ‘Signs of sabotage have been found, and security records that could’ve shed light on the situation have been erased. There is a traitor out for Lars’ blood, and I have no doubt that they would easily be able to compromise the medical wards’ security if they wanted to.’ He held the clone Medic’s gaze evenly as the man processed the information that had just been given to him, his face turning cold and steely, eyes glinting like flints of amber.</p><p>‘So this is my advice, Medic Kix,’ he continued quietly. ‘Increase the security around Lars, for both his sake and ours.’</p><p>Kix, for his part, closed his eyes entirely for a moment and adopted a pensive look, hand rubbing over his chin. But when he opened his eyes again, there was a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth even as his eyes hardened with determination. ‘Increased security I can do, Captain,’ the man agreed with a nod. ‘But I also firmly believe that while there can never be too much caution, Lars is currently about as safe as he could possibly be, sir.’</p><p>Oh? Piett narrowed his eye just a touch, suspicious of the Medic’s sudden swing-around in demeanor. ‘How come?’ he asked, mentally running over possible factors he might’ve missed.</p><p>The man chuckled quietly in response as he began walking again. ‘Because, sir, ever since coming out of surgery yesterday evening and promptly discharging himself, Lord Vader has been by Lars’ side without leaving for even a moment.’</p><p>Piett wasn’t sure <em>why</em> that information was such a surprise, but somehow, in some way, it absolutely was.</p><p>‘In fact,’ he continued, even as the information he had just given Piett already had his mind going a lightyear a second, ‘According to our monitors in the recovery ward, Lars had woken up for a short while only a couple hours ago, and Lord Vader was still by his side.’</p><p>‘According to the monitors?’ he asked as he processed the fact that Lord Vader was apparently brooding, in the most literal sense of the word. He promptly banished the thought as traitorous  and very much something he didn’t want to be thinking of just before reporting to the man.</p><p>Kix raised a pointed eyebrow at him while he held open a door for him and Appo to pass through. ‘Would you want to be the person to step into a room, knowing that you would be interrupting between those two?’</p><p>He had to admit, the Medic had a very good point there.</p><p>‘Besides,’ Kix continued, ‘We didn’t doubt that if Lars was displaying any kind of negative symptoms, Lord Vader would be hauling us in by the scruff in seconds. We decided to let them have their moment and conduct examinations at a later point in time.’</p><p>And another good point. Which only left… ‘I concede your points, Medic Kix,’ he said as he hummed low in his throat. ‘But I was unaware that Lars had already recovered to the point of being allowed visitors.’</p><p>Here, Kix smirked at him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, coming to a halt in front of a door that he unlocked with a code cylinder. ‘Oh, he hasn’t,’ the man replied cheerfully, and Piett got a bad feeling as he heard the Commander chuckle at his side while Kix’s smirk widened into a grin. ‘But there was a unanimous vote that an exception could be made for adoptive family members.’</p><p>Wait, what.</p><p>He didn’t get the chance to reply, however, as the door chirped and unlocked, Kix quickly hitting the control panel to open it up.</p><p>‘We decided to grant Lars a bit more privacy than usual,’ the Medic explained as he typed in a few things into the control panel’s number pad. ‘So this ward is on a light lockdown to ensure no other patients get sent here. For both of their sakes.’</p><p>The door clicked and chirped as the Medic finished inputting the string of numbers. ‘Alright,’ he said as he turned back to face Piett with a nod. ‘You’re cleared to enter, Captain, but Appo will have to stay behind. And do try to keep quiet,’ he added, ‘Engineer Lars needs his rest.’</p><p>Still frantically attempting to clear his mind from all the traitorous thoughts that involved the medical staff having apparently decided that Lord Vader qualified as adoptive family, Piett could only nod and thank the Medic politely and bid a short farewell to the Commander, who had taken up guard position besides the door.</p><p>Stepping through the door and into the short hallway beyond, he was almost grateful to hear it slide closed with a hiss and click of the lock. At least the Medic wouldn’t be able to plant even more casually delivered earth-shattering revelations in him while he was about to meet his Commander who he was fairly certain was a telepath. It would make more sense than if he wasn’t anyway.</p><p>Rapidly clearing his mind of all such thoughts, Piett turned the corner of the hallway and—</p><p>Promptly abandoned all such endeavors.</p><p>Two seconds.</p><p>Blinking at the scene in front of him, he felt his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. Because in front of him was what looked to be a normal, mostly empty recovery ward, with the glaring exception of two things.</p><p>The first being the black silhouette of Lord Vader sitting next to the third bed on the left. Which was unusual enough in and of itself, since Piett didn’t think he had ever actually seen the dark Lord sit before with the sole exceptions being in the pilot’s seat of his TIE Fighter and in a meditative position the rare handful of times he had to report to the Lord directly while the man was in his private quarters. None of those instances were as jarring as seeing the man seated in a regular visitor’s chair next to a sickbed.</p><p>That all paled in the face of the second thing.</p><p>Mainly because the second thing was the peacefully sleeping form of Lars, sitting semi-upright and tucked in against Lord Vader's chest like the man was the galaxy’s most terrifying teddy bear. The young man’s body was partially covered with the dark Lord’s cape where the blanket had clearly fallen away, with said body currently being held in what could only be described as a tender embrace by the one who gave the entire galaxy nightmares as their collective bogeyman. A dark specter of terror and madness who was nonetheless rubbing gentle circles into Lars’ back as the young man— <em>boy</em> slept soundly within the arms of death.</p><p>This was going to be a long, long day. Force, he needed a drink.</p><p>But two seconds had passed, and the world spun on again. He sighed, and stepped forwards to the strange, paradoxical duo that was bound to wreck what little was left of his sanity.</p><p>With every step he took, he could feel Lord Vader's attention grow heavier on his shoulders, even as the man never averted his eyes from the boy sleeping within his arms.</p><p>‘What business do you have here, Captain?’ the familiar voice that rolled like a thunderclap asked as Piett came to a halt a few paces from the bed. It was fine, he could do this. He’d ignored worse before while giving a report.</p><p>Stepping into an easy parade rest, Piett breathed out a quick breath before answering. ‘I have an urgent report to give concerning the situation of yesterday, my Lord,’ he responded, voice calm and blank despite his mind struggling to stay in a similar state.</p><p>Finally, Lord Vader looked up and met his eyes evenly. ‘Then report, Captain.’</p><p>‘My Lord, we found the cause of the explosion.’ He halted as he swallowed heavily. ‘It wasn’t an accident,’ he brought out eventually. ‘It was sabotage.’</p><p>Immediately the temperature in the room crashed hard enough that Piett thought he could hear ice crackling in the air.</p><p>
  <em>‘…What.’</em>
</p><p>Piett shivered, but suppressed further reactions with a precision that came of endless experience. ‘We found holes drilled into the hermetic seals of the 3D printer Lars had used, my Lord, and Engineer Lyvon is searching for further signs of tampering as we speak,’ he rattled off easily, the familiarity of the act granting him some ease that no amount of rational could.</p><p>‘Furthermore, I went to check the security logs of the main hangar to see if there was evidence to be found as to who could be the culprit, but the data cache had been wiped two days prior via a general order. At the moment, we are still uncertain as to the identity of whom gave that order, but the security personnel are already combing through the archives to find the perpetrator as we speak.’ He suppressed the need to fidget nervously, and soldiered on to the final conclusion. ‘We have a traitor aboard, my Lord,’ he said quietly at last. ‘And they are aiming for Engineer Lars.’</p><p>If Piett had thought the previous temperature crash was bad, he had been wrong. Dead. Wrong.</p><p>Shivering within his uniform that was definitely not meant to withstand sub-zero temperatures, Piett watched in terrified awe as with every cycle of the dark Lord’s respirator, his own breath became ever clearer clouds of condensation. Frost began creeping up the walls of the recovery ward in elegant fern-like patterns, even as Piett's terror skyrocketed. This was—</p><p>And then a quiet whimper shivered through the air.</p><p>As two pairs of eyes darted towards the source of the sound, Piett felt his heart clench as he saw the small form within his Commander’s grasp shiver pitifully within his sleep, soft chattering noises indicating that even asleep the young man’s body was attempting to stay warm in whatever way it could.</p><p>Lord Vader stilled, and, before Piett's very eyes, he witnessed the frost ferns melting off the walls like they had never even been there, the temperature rising again within seconds. He pretended not to see Lord Vader carefully readjusting the blanket and edge of his cape around the shivering youth, pulling Lars just a little closer into his arms, the young man nuzzling into the dark specter’s shoulder contently.</p><p>Oh yes. A very, <em>very</em> long day.</p><p>Once Lars had been made comfortable again and the air was no longer freezing before Piett's very eyes, Lord Vader once more turned his gaze towards him. ‘Continue with your report, Captain,’ the dark Lord ordered as if he hadn’t just demonstrated evidence of something approximating a parent fussing over their— <em>not going there</em><em>.</em></p><p>‘Yes, my Lord,’ he agreed blandly. ‘As we are currently unaware of the identity of the traitor, I propose strict countermeasures to ensure that they do not escape or succeed in their task. A lockdown, at the very least, on both in and outgoing traffic and outgoing communications. Possibly a curfew as well, prohibiting any movement around the Lady save for the work shifts. Exceptions to those rules should only occur after rigorous screening and a proven alibi has been given. And as for Engineer Lars…’ he trailed off as he let his eyes rest on the peacefully sleeping young man. ‘I propose a heavy increase to his personal security. We do not know if the traitor will make another attempt, but I don’t think we should wager anything on the presumption that they won’t.’ He finished his proposed plan with a curt nod. ‘At your discretion, my Lord.’</p><p>There was a moment of silence in which a couple of cycles of the respirator passed, a fact that should have made Piett's nerves feel like high-strung elastics if it weren’t for the fact that the atmosphere felt inexplicably… calm. <em>Or well,</em> Piett thought as he looked at the youth still soundly sleeping in what might be the single safest place in the galaxy, <em>perhaps not so inexplicably.</em></p><p>When Lord Vader spoke again, it was with greater restraint than Piett had ever expected from the man after having received such news. But with the young man held within his grasp, perhaps he should have expected great care being taken so as to not wake the sleeping Engineer.</p><p>‘I approve of your proposed counter measures, Captain,’ he said at last. ‘Take care in selecting the men you recruit to aid you in this endeavor. The veterans of the 501<sup>st</sup> would be a wise choice, as they have professed an imperative to protect Engineer Lars.’ The man paused to glance down at the young man in question. ‘They are unlikely to have the traitor amongst their ranks. Make use of mandatory registration of who is present during the start and end of every shift by the Commanding Officers as well, so as to prevent the traitor from simply slipping under the radar.’</p><p>Recognizing the orders of Lord Vader's manner of minimize the risk of failure and thus, execution, he gratefully took them with both hands. ‘It will be done, my Lord,’ he agreed with a nod. ‘And as for the security measures concerning Engineer Lars?’</p><p>‘I will handle those personally, Captain,’ Lord Vader responded promptly, ‘No harm will come to Engineer Lars.’ A fact which Piett hadn’t doubted for a moment but that he knew he needed confirmed either way. Just in case. And it sounded like a vow when his Commander said it. ‘Will that be all for now, Captain Piett?’</p><p>He had gotten confirmation and approval of his plans, he was still breathing, and Lord Vader was calmly discussing options with him even as he knew the man had to be quietly fuming on this inside thanks to a little unconscious miracle work from Lars. Honestly? He couldn’t have expected this to go any better.</p><p>‘That will be all, my Lord,’ he agreed with small smile and a curt bow.</p><p>‘Then you are dismissed, Captain,’ the dark Lord said easily. ‘I believe you have a number of announcements to make to the Lady.’</p><p>He did indeed. With a respectful dip of his head, he turned away from the odd duo and headed back to the entrance.</p><p>‘And, Captain Piett?’ the vocoder rumbled after him, causing him to glance back at the Lord, red lenses meeting his own eyes evenly. ‘I remind you, you have my full authorization to carry out any actions you deem necessary to further your investigation. I leave it at your discretion to use that how you see fit.’ The mask tilted forwards and caught the lights of the recovery ward, the lenses gleaming brightly. ‘Have I made myself clear?’</p><p>A genuine question, and one Piett almost couldn’t answer in a timely manner as he processed the full implications of the statement. ‘Yes, my Lord,’ he answered, a little awestruck. ‘You have.’</p><p>Lord Vader was trusting him to bring the investigation to a successful conclusion. That, despite the fact that the nature of the investigation had changed drastically from a damage report into an attempted murder investigation. An attempted murder investigation that had <em>Lars</em> as a victim, so it may very well have been an assassination attempt instead.</p><p>Piett didn’t think there were many ways in which Lord Vader could demonstrate his trust in people, but he was willing to bet a costly credit that he had just been awarded one of them.</p><p>‘Very well then, Captain Piett,’ the man rumbled. ‘May the Force be with you.’ And with that, the mask turned back downwards to watching the young man sleeping against him breathing in a slow, steady rhythm.</p><p>Recognizing the final dismissal for what it was, Piett didn’t bother to offer any continued farewells to the man who clearly didn’t want them while watching over his charge and silently wished the two well.</p><p>Striding back out towards the door, he used his code cylinder to unlock it while keeping his mind carefully blank until it had slid open and allowed him through. On the other side of the door, he found Commander Appo and Medic Kix in a deeply animated conversation entirely in Mando’a.</p><p>Which was probably for the better, he decided as he eyed Medic Kix, recalling the incident yesterday where the man had somehow been able to persuade Lord Vader to submit to a medical exam and apparently surgery with just one phrase in the language. A phrase that he very much did <em>not</em> want to know.</p><p>The conversation in the musical language halted as both clones caught sight of him.</p><p>‘Ah, you’re back, Captain,’ Kix greeted with a grin and a dip of his head. ‘How was the conversation?’</p><p>Odd, unthinkable, unimaginable, reassuring, <em>terrifying</em>—</p><p>‘Productive,’ he answered primly. ‘His Lordship has agreed with my planned course with only a few adjustments. Effective immediately, we are in lockdown and I will need to head to the bridge as soon as possible to make that announcement.’ Then he thought of something else. ‘Oh, and Medic Kix? I would advise you to not send anyone into there who isn’t prepared to keep a straight face despite any oddities they might see.’</p><p>Kix shot him an odd look that veered between him and the door he just exited and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.</p><p>Piett smiled slightly at the remembered sight of a young man tucked safely into the arms of a specter of death, looking for all the world like there was nowhere he’d rather be, and decided to take something of a risk. ‘It seems that Lord Vader has discovered something of a parental side to himself,’ he confided quietly. ‘And is currently guarding Lars’ sleep.’</p><p>A look of understand crossed Kix’s face, and he grinned with a mischievous spark in his eyes. ‘A bedside vigil, hm?’ he asked in a knowing tone.</p><p>Thinking back to the oddly gentle sight, he titled his head at the Medic. ‘Something like that,’ he answered vaguely. ‘I don’t believe it to be in my best interest to elaborate, but any disturbances to the two should be of the necessary variety, just to be safe.’</p><p>‘I’ll have it noted in Lars’ file,’ Kix agreed with a chuckle, before sobering up somewhat and fixing Piett with a serious look. ‘And let’s hope that something good comes out of this whole nightmare, shall we?’</p><p>‘If I weren’t on-duty, Medic Kix,’ he said with a straight face, ‘I would drink to that.’</p><p>Kix and Appo burst into laughter, and Piett took the opportunity to rearrange his datapad in the crook of his arm. ‘Now then, Medic, I believe it is time we take our leave.’ He glanced towards the Commander and received a nod back. ‘There are announcements to make and an investigation to continue.’</p><p>With a quick series of pleasantries and polite goodbyes, Piett and Commander Appo were once again on their way towards a goal that would likely result in more headaches than it would fix. However, it had to be done. As he strode through the hallways of the medical wing, Piett began mentally rehearsing the announcement of the lockdown and the notices that would have to be put up.</p><p>He would have to take Vader's words to heart and start assigning people to enforce those rules as well, apparently starting by getting Veers on the line to tell him he was taking the majority of his best men to do the task in name of ensuring that the one thing keeping Lord Vader levelheaded and not on a rampage was kept alive at all costs. Sighing, he fished his comm out of his pocket and selected a contact that he could have recited in his sleep.</p><p>The little device beeped, crackled, and then a familiar, irreverent voice came out of it. ‘Firmus, what do you want?’ the no-nonsense voice of Veers called out of the device as he swept around another corner and into the main hallway, the elevator station already visible.</p><p>‘Max, I’m giving you a heads up,’ he said quickly as he headed for the elevators with Commander Appo hot on his heels. ‘I’m about to make a ship-wide announcement of a couple of urgent countermeasures we’re going to need to take if we want to keep Lars alive, and the majority of your best men are a part of the plan.’</p><p>Veers cursed at the other end of the line and Piett heard the distinct sound of rummaging. ‘Alright,’ Veers said after a couple of moments, ‘I have a notebook open and no idea what you’re talking about. Give me the rundown and I’ll see what I can do.’</p><p>‘There is a traitor on the ship,’ he said, cutting to the chase as Appo gave the destination of the bridge to the Troopers manning the station. Not allowing his friend to get a word in edgewise, he quickly rattled off the summary of the most recent events. The sabotage, the missing security data, everything. By the time he finished, the other end of the line went dead silent, and if he couldn’t see that the connection was still intact, he might have thought that one of them had accidentally hung up.</p><p><em>‘…What,’ </em>Veers said at last, voice icy and quiet in a manner eerily similar to Lord Vader.</p><p>‘Exactly what I said, Max,’ he replied, walking into the elevator as the doors slid shut behind him and the Commander. ‘There’s a traitor aboard, and they’re gunning for Lars. Lord Vader is currently handling the increase of security for the Head Engineer himself, but I have been given the authority to do whatever is necessary in his name to continue the investigation and find the culprit.’</p><p>He’d never noticed before how the elevators seemed to be achingly slow in the moments only when you least wanted them to be, but there was little to be done about that as he rocked back on his heels waiting for Veers’ reply.</p><p>‘Tell me what you need,’ the General said at last, steel edging his voice and reminding Piett exactly why he had gained a reputation for being a terror on the battlefield.</p><p>There was no time to waste, however. ‘I am ordering the entire ship into lockdown,’ he divulged quickly, ticking off the mental list he had made of things that would need to be done. ‘No one goes in or out without a full background check, a lack of motive, and an airtight alibi. Same goes for outgoing communications. Everything will have to be screened and checked three times over. There will be a curfew, registration at the start and end of every shift by the commanding Officers, and possibly other countermeasures as time goes on and it becomes clear that we need them,’ he rattled off, already knowing that it was going to be far from the last time he would have to do so. ‘In order to enforce those measures, however, I need men.’</p><p>‘Done,’ Veers agreed instantly, but Piett wasn’t done.</p><p>‘Max,’ he interrupted urgently, needing this to register with his friend properly. ‘I need the <em>vod’e</em> <em>specifically.</em> According to Lord Vader they’re the best suited to protecting Lars, and they’re the only ones he trusts as a collective not to have the traitor amongst their ranks. I don’t know why—’</p><p>‘Because Luke Lars is our <em>Goran,’</em> a calm voice interrupted, and Piett's eyes snapped up to the Commander beside him, who had been silent so far. The Trooper’s helmet was fixed on the elevator doors, but Piett got the feeling that his attention was anything but.</p><p>‘…Care to elaborate, whomever you are?’ Veers’ voice spoke up out of the comm and Piett agreed wholeheartedly.</p><p>‘Commander Appo, sir,’ the man in question directed towards the comm unit in Piett's hand. ‘I am accompanying Captain Piett to ensure that nothing untoward happens in his mission but I believe I can answer this question.’</p><p>Piett looked at the man, having been so very quiet until now, he wondered what the man had been thinking of this whole fiasco right up until now. ‘Then please, explain, Commander,’ he instructed the Trooper as calmly as he could.</p><p>The Commander shifted in place for a bit, but eventually dipped his head with a sigh. ‘Luke Lars is our <em>Goran,</em> sirs,’ he said eventually. ‘Or Armorer, Smith, however you want to translate it in Basic, it all means the same to us clones; someone who protects and guides us as best they can in ways that are rare to find in an army. The pact was sealed only a few days ago, but the sentiment amongst us <em>vod’e</em> was there long before that.’</p><p><a id="back13" name="back13"></a><a id="back14" name="back14"></a><a id="back15" name="back15"></a><a id="back16" name="back16"></a>Appo fell silent for a moment, but when he spoke up again, his voice held something that made the hairs on Piett's neck stand on end and jarred a part of him into realizing that this was <em>important.</em> ‘Luke Lars is to us the counterpart of Lord Vader that was long missed, both to him and to us. He balances the scales and takes care of our <em>manda</em> <a href="#note13"><sup>[13]</sup></a> as well as our <em>beskar’gam</em>. <a href="#note14"><sup>[14]</sup></a> He is… <em>mirjahaal</em>, <a href="#note15"><sup>[15]</sup></a> to a lot of us. Healing. That is his role as a <em>Goran.</em> In return, we guard and protect him, listen to him, and obey only the <em>Alor</em> <a href="#note16"><sup>[16]</sup></a> over him. He is our <em>Goran,</em> and we? We are his people and protectors alongside Lord Vader.’ He finally turned to face Piett fully and even through the visor he could feel the Trooper’s gaze. ‘<em>That</em> is what he is to us.’</p><p>The final statement from the clone Commander hung heavy in the air, and even as Piett began to get a better picture of the sheer <em>extent</em> to which Lars had effectively undermined the official hierarchy and dominated the informal one, he still felt that with the disparity in language and culture there was a great deal that was lost on him in the impact of that statement. One thing was clear, though. He had severely underestimate just how <em>terrifying</em> Luke Lars’ ability to disregard conventional authority with impunity was.</p><p>Something which Veers evidently agreed with when he spoke next. ‘And no one thought to inform me of the fact that half the 501<sup>st</sup> Legion could desert—<em>just like that</em>—on the orders of a kid? <em>Why,</em> Trooper?’ he asked over the comm, voice dangerously low.</p><p>Appo, however, seemed utterly unconcerned with the danger in the general’s voice. ‘With all due respect, sir,’ he said easily, ‘Do you honestly think that if Lars were to ever give an order—a true order that he expected to be followed—Lord Vader wouldn’t back it up?’</p><p>And that—that was terrifying. The things that statement <em>implied—</em></p><p>‘Are you saying, Commander,’ he heard himself say distantly, unaware that his mouth had opened to give voice to his fears. ‘That you believe <em>Lord Vader</em> would follow a command from Lars?’</p><p>The Commander was silent for a moment, but just when Piett began to hope that the man had realized the madness he had just spoke into existence, he nodded firmly. ‘Yes, sir, I do. I believe that if Lars ever felt the need to truly give orders, be it to us or Lord Vader, they would be followed by His Lordship.’</p><p>And the next question, “why,” was already on Piett's tongue when he remembered the sight from just a few moments and a lifetime ago. Lord Vader, patiently allowing Lars to sleep huddled up against him like the galaxy’s deadliest pillow and even taking care to ensure that the young man was as comfortable as possible. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to deny that he could see where the Commander’s ludicrous conviction came from.</p><p>But he couldn’t.</p><p>Not when the evidence was there for all to see.</p><p>So instead of protesting like he so dearly wanted to, vehemently denying that such a thing was possible, and decrying the Commander as delusional, he nodded his head, and felt his mouth form the words he didn’t even know if he wished them true. ‘I agree.’</p><p><em>‘What!’</em> Veers shouted from over the comm line. ‘Firmus, do you hear what you are saying!?’</p><p>‘I do, Max,’ he said evenly, a lot calmer than he felt. He looked the Commander in the eyes as best he could and thought he saw a spark of understanding when the man tipped his head to the side.</p><p>‘You’ve seen it too, haven’t you, Captain?’ Appo asked.</p><p>He really wished he hadn’t. ‘Yes, I… believe so, Commander,’ he said, resignation thick in his voice but his will insufficient to temper it.</p><p>‘Firmus,’ Veers hissed from over the comm line. ‘This is <em>insane.</em> Do you realize what this would <em>mean?’</em></p><p>‘Max,’ Piett interrupted firmly, unwilling to divulge this information but feeling it appropriate. ‘If you had seen what I’ve just seen, you would agree.’</p><p>Veers was quiet for a moment and he eyed the Commander in front of him as the man’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. He had the feeling that despite never entering the room, the Trooper knew exactly what he had seen in that recovery ward.</p><p>‘…What the hell did you see that you would be able to agree with this, Firmus Piett?’ the General asked, disbelief and trepidation clear even over the comm line’s audio.</p><p>‘Lord Vader,’ Piett said with a sigh, already regretting the words before he had said them. ‘Holding a soundly sleeping Lars like a parent would a sick child.’</p><p>Silence.</p><p>‘You’re shitting me.’ It wasn’t a question.</p><p>‘I wish I was, Max,’ he said as he glared at the still laughing Trooper. ‘I honestly wish I was. Now can we please go back to the matter at hand?’</p><p>‘Right,’ Veers muttered, ‘Of course. Just drop this bomb on me and then bail, why don’t you?’ He sighed and the comm line crackled with the sound. ‘Right. Troopers, 501<sup>st</sup>, <em>vod’e</em>,’ he rattled off quickly. ‘How many will be needed to secure the Lady, and do I inform them of the exact reason they were chosen or not?’</p><p>‘At least double the number of the usual guard shift,’ Piett answered promptly. ‘We’ll want to ensure that there is an equal distribution of eyes everywhere. And as for the reasoning…’ He looked at the Commander. ‘Commander Appo, do you believe it would be beneficial for the others to be made aware of who chose them as the chief candidates for the emergency security forces?’</p><p>‘I would tell them, sir,’ the Commander answers promptly. ‘It’ll give them all a boost in motivation, even aside from the fact that it’s for the Armorer’s sake that we’re being deployed. There is also the matter that we’re indirectly being called upon by the <em>Alor,</em> which can only strengthen the need to do well.’</p><p>‘Hmrh,’ Veers muttered over the comm. ‘That settles it then. I’ll begin drafting up squads for the assignment and let you know when they’re ready to be deployed and—’ The elevator dinged with their arrival. ‘—It seems like our time is up anyways,’ he noted ruefully. ‘Good luck, Firmus. I think you’re gonna need it.’</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he replied drily, and promptly hung up when the elevator doors slid open. Shaking his head with a sigh, he wondered how a simple elevator ride felt like it had lasted a lifetime, the visit to the medical wing mere minutes ago already so far away.</p><p>It hardly mattered. He had work to do.</p><p>‘Right then, Commander,’ he said with a sigh as he stepped out through the doors. ‘I believe it’s time to face the music.’</p><p>Appo barked out a short laugh and shook his head as he fell into lockstep with Piett. ‘Don’t say it like it’s my thing too, sir. This is <em>all</em> you.’</p><p>Casting a sideways look of betrayal at the Commander as they walked through the bustling halls, Piett shook his head. ‘Thrown to the rancors,’ he muttered lowly to the Commander’s audible amusement.</p><p>There was little time for jokes, however, as they quickly approached the doors to the main bridge. Fishing his code cylinder out of his breast pocket, Piett unlocked the doors to the space on the Lady where he still performed at his best and felt in his element.</p><p>When the doors slid open, he strode into the familiar din of sounds that were usual to the bridge with all the casual confidence of someone who belonged there. The chatter of the navigators and communications Officers, the beeping and chirping of the computers as they were supplied with a continuously updating stream of information, the holograms displaying star charts and a layout of the Lady that was ever-shifting as new information was uploaded into her core. Here was where he belonged.</p><p>‘What is the meaning of this, Captain?’ a familiar and despised voice sputtered and Piett nearly rolled his eyes as he stopped in his tracks.</p><p>Unfortunately, someone else called this their territory as well.</p><p>Turning to face the already growing blemish on his still somewhat-intact good mood, he reluctantly saluted his Commanding Officer. ‘Admiral Ozzel, sir,’ he greeted as politely as his morals would allow.</p><p>Ozzel didn’t even bother to salute back as he stormed up to Piett. ‘Where in the Empire’s name have you been, Captain?’ he spat. ‘Your shift started over four hours ago!’ Which meant that the man had to be desperate for his favored scapegoat while he made one blunder after the other that he would have to fix later on. Wonderful.</p><p>‘As I said in the message I sent you this morning, Admiral,’ he began blandly, already gleeful that he had the foresight to copy that message to five different places and addresses, ‘I was given a mission by Lord Vader himself that had to be carried out with all due haste. This superseded my usual duties in priority and thus, I had to preform them over my usual duties.’</p><p>He would bet fifty-to-one odds that the man hadn’t so much as touched the message before deleting it, but that wasn’t going to be on Piett's head no matter how he would try to twist it. Something which he could already see Ozzel attempt to calculate mentally as Piett smiled mildly at him.</p><p>‘As it stands,’ he continued before the Admiral could get a word in edgewise, steamrolling over the man with a bluntness that was catharsis in its purest form, ‘I have been tasked with spearheading the investigation into yesterday’s explosion within Lars’ workshop, and it has turned up some rather interesting results. Results which were enough cause for emergency measures to be implemented, effective immediately. I will make the announcements now, and send out the notices.’</p><p>Watching the Admiral’s face with a detached fascination, Piett could pinpoint the exact millisecond that his statement sunk into the pudding the man called a brain. Face contorting into something truly smugly hideous, the Admiral scowled down his nose at him. ‘You will do absolutely <em>no</em> such thing, Captain,’ he protested. ‘You will submit the proper form just like anyone else and <em>I</em> will decide if it holds the merit of disturbing everyone’s day—’</p><p>‘Admiral Ozzel,’ Piett interrupted pleasantly, making a mental note to find some way to thank Lord Vader for this moment, ‘I don’t think you understand. I <em>will</em> make the announcements and send out the notices, regardless of your protests. There is nothing you can do to stop me.’</p><p>For a moment, he thought the Admiral might choke on his indignation, but unfortunately, even purple in the face, the man managed to object to Piett's challenge one last time. ‘And what makes you think I won’t court martial you for this before you can even take another step, Captain?’ he hissed. ‘Such insubordination—’</p><p>‘Will not be tolerated by Lord Vader, Admiral,’ he said as he completed the sentence with the utmost pleasantry. ‘As it is Lord Vader's direct authority I am acting under.’</p><p>Ozzel reared back at the name of the man even he had to realized had nearly killed him more times than could be counted on one hand. Maybe even two. ‘You what?’ he choked out, all bluster and bite gone from his tone.</p><p>So very, very satisfying. ‘To quote his Lordship,’ he continued conversationally, ‘I have his full authorization to take any action I deem necessary in the pursuit of my investigation.’ He looked Ozzel dead in the eyes and dropped all pretense of geniality, mild mannered smile turning into a display of bared teeth. ‘I deem these measures necessary. Now let me through, <em>sir.’</em></p><p>Not even bothering to wait for an answer from the sputtering and protesting man, Piett neatly sidestepped around the blockage in his path and, once he was no longer occupied with the Admiral, took amused notice that the entire bridge was doing a rather poor job of looking engrossed in their tasks instead of listening in on his and Ozzel’s conversation. No matter, it was to his advantage if they already knew what had to be done.</p><p>‘Officer Mirek?’ he directed towards the man behind the communications station, and was grateful when the man didn’t even pretend not to have heard him, swiveling around in his chair and saluting him without preamble.</p><p>‘Yes, Captain Piett?’</p><p>‘The ship-wide intercom, if you would,’ he directed easily. This would need to be done quickly.</p><p>The man nodded and spun back around, inputting various codes into the terminal in front of him. With the last hard clack of an enter key being hit, a hatch in the main command console hissed as it split open down the middle, two halve folding outwards and backwards as a microphone revealed itself.</p><p>‘It’s live, sir,’ Officer Mirek assured him. ‘Just press the red button and say what you must while holding it pressed.’</p><p>Thanking the man with a nod, Piett walked up to the mcc while weaving easily around a still sputtering Ozzel, feeling the eyes of the bridge upon him. Stepping up to the microphone, Piett took a deep breath, and pressed the red button on the console.</p><p>‘Attention all Crewmates and passengers of the Executor,’ he addressed as he began his announcement. ‘This is Captain Piett speaking to inform you of a drastic change that will be occurring. As many of you will know by now, yesterday morning an explosion occurred within the workshop of the Head Engineer, injuring him severely in the process. He survived, but his state was dire and some injuries will be with him for the rest of his life.’ He breathed deeply as he prepared to reveal the next bit, knowing that the eyes of the entire ship were on him at this point.</p><p>‘I regret to inform you, however,’ he continued steadily, ‘That these injuries were <em>not</em> the result of an unfortunate accident, but instead, the result of a cowardly act of sabotage. For now, the investigation is ongoing. However, to facilitate the success of said investigation, and prevent the escape of the culprit, there will be emergency measures put in place.’</p><p>This was it.</p><p>He straightened his posture as best he could and kept a determined face as he said the last part of his impromptu speech. ‘From this moment forward, the Executor is in lockdown. All incoming and outgoing traffic will be halted and not permitted to continue without submitting to extensive scrutiny. All outgoing communications will be subjected to the same treatment. A mandatory check for your presence will be performed by your Commanding Officer at the beginning and end of each shift, and a curfew will be instated, meaning that any recreational activities and meetings not confined to one’s quarters will be put on hold. These measures will persist until the culprit is found and arrested. Until such an occurrence, I encourage you all to be wary and alert. Report your suspicions to your Commanding Officer, or, if you suspect them, their immediate superior, but beware of paranoia and distrust.’</p><p>There, no going back now. </p><p>He breathed deeply. ‘Crewmates and passengers of the Executor, there is a traitor and saboteur amongst our ranks. I will not tell you not to be concerned. I will not tell you not to be wary. But remember that they stand alone, a coward hiding in the shadows. This too will pass, and once it does, we will remain standing. To that end, these are the measures necessary, and I authorize them effective immediately in the name of Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces, Lord Vader. I thank you for your attention, and may the stars favor us all.’ With that, he let go of the button and ended the broadcast. Done.</p><p>Looking up from the microphone, his eyes immediately caught those of half the bridge crew, all looking at him with various degrees of worry, concern, surprise, shock, and… awe? How odd. Flattering, but odd.</p><p>Still, there was much work to be done now that the announcements had been made. Orders would have to be sent out to all necessary Crewmates and Officers to ensure that they would know what to do and who to report to. Notices would have to be drafted and posted of the exact details of the new measurements so that people wouldn’t be left floundering. And broadcasts would have to be made to the relevant authorities to update them on the Executor’s new status of lockdown, of both physical transport and communications.</p><p>Mentally sighing as he went through the list and matched the tasks to the relevant underlings, Piett resigned himself to working a double shift if necessary to get it all done. Wishing that he could have done all of this <em>before</em> he had to make the broadcast but knowing that time was of the essence if they wanted to have any chance of catching the culprit before they went to ground, Piett subtly rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension in them before addressing the bridge.</p><p>Or rather, that was the plan, but before he could so much as open his mouth, Ozzel found his tongue again and began stammering out his indignant protests. Allowing himself a sigh out loud this time, Piett reluctantly turned towards the Admiral.</p><p>‘Why you— the <em>audacity—</em> rescind those words <em>at once,</em> Captain!’ the man spluttered out. ‘Who do you think you are, giving orders of this manner!? You cannot put the <em>Executor</em> into a— into a lockdown. This is the flagship of the Empire and not some outer rim corvette used to hunt pirates, why I—!’</p><p>‘I can, Admiral Ozzel,’ Piett interrupted calmly and, realizing this was going to be a long one, took his datapad out of the crook of his arm and pulled up the messaging center. ‘And I did. The Lady is on lockdown until the traitor is found, as per my orders backed by the authority of Lord Vader, exactly like I just said in the broadcast.’</p><p>Ozzel scoffed incredulously. ‘And am I to believe that Lord Vader just gave you the authority to supersede <em>me?</em> Come now, Captain, I realize that you are used to a lower caliber intellect, but you will have to try harder than—'</p><p>‘I would not be foolish enough to make the claim on a public broadcast unless I was utterly confident it was the truth. Sir,’ he cut the man off idly, already composing the order to lockdown all external transport on the Lady on his datapad as he spoke. Perhaps the word “imperative” would carry the haste needed better than “urgent?”</p><p>‘And I was not consulted on this!?’ Ozzel snarled. ‘I was not consulted on who would be undermining my authority for such a <em>ludicrous</em> reason!?’</p><p>Piett glanced up at the purpling man while he pressed the “send” button on the order to lockdown the transport. ‘No, sir,’ he said simply. ‘You were not consulted before an investigation into an act of sabotage, treason, and attempted murder began, as it was assumed that you would be able to grasp the urgency of the situation. My apologies for misjudging your judgment.’</p><p>That, evidently, was the wrong thing to say, as Ozzel gaped like a fish, but Piett could hardly find it in himself to care. ‘If that will be all, sir?’ he asked impatiently. ‘I have a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it. This, quite frankly, is a waste of it.’ Not bothering to wait for the Admiral’s reply, Piett turned his attention back to the bridge crew.</p><p>‘Officer Mirek,’ he called out, stepping into parade rest as he faced his colleagues. ‘Please compose a message to notify the rest of Death Squadron of our new status and send it out to the other ships. It wouldn’t do to leave our colleagues in the dark about these drastic changes.’ When the man had acknowledged his orders, he turned to the next Communications Officer. ‘Officer Yilden, I ask that you compose the message towards our suppliers on our situation but hold off on sending it. There is still some time until the next supply run is scheduled, and I would like to avoid undue excitement. Should the need come, however, you will send out a message instructing them to deliver our supplies towards the Devastator for temporary storage. Compose a message for Admiral Montferrat to notify him of the situation as well. Officer—’</p><p>His orders were interrupted by the blaring of a comm unit’s emergency line coming to life, and turning around, he saw as Commander Appo activated the line. ‘Speak quickly,’ the Trooper commanded.</p><p><em>‘Vod!’</em> the voice on the other end called out, and Piett thought that he recognized Commander Cody’s voice, harried thought it was. ‘Get the Captain on the line, this needs his attention ASAP!’</p><p>‘I am here, Commander,’ he spoke into the direction of the comm unit, loud and clear. ‘What is the news?’</p><p><em>‘Sir,’</em> the Commander hissed urgently, ‘Sir, we have a lead! There’s not just one traitor, there’s at least two or even more, we don’t know yet. They worked in concert, one doing the sabotage and another getting the records erased and covering their asses.’</p><p>What.</p><p>‘How did you come by this knowledge, Commander?’ he asked, determination coloring every syllable. If the Commander was correct— ‘As far as I was aware, the security Officers were still working on recovering the data from the archives.’</p><p>‘We didn’t need the data!’ the Commander nearly yelled into the comm, causing the line to crackle. ‘Not with the source we got!’</p><p>Source? ‘State it plainly, Commander,’ he ordered sternly. ‘How do you know there are more that two people in the plot, and where did you get that information.’</p><p>‘From the same source, sir,’ Cody told him. ‘We found him, sir!’</p><p>
  <em>‘We found the saboteur!’</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
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<a id="note13" name="note13"></a>[13] <em>Manda:</em> A word with many deep and important meanings to Mandalorian. It can mean he collective soul or heaven. A state of being Mandalorian in mind, body, and spirit. It can also indicate the supreme, the all-encompassing, the guardian-like. It isn’t used lightly. <sup><a href="#back13">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<a id="note14" name="note14"></a>[14] <em>Beskar’gam:</em> Armor. One of the most important aspects of life as a Mandalorian or clone. Proper armor tends to be forged by an Armorer. <sup><a href="#back14">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<a id="note15" name="note15"></a>[15] <em>Mirjahaal:</em> Peace of mind, healing, a term used to describe general emotional well-being and recovery after trauma or loss <sup><a href="#back15">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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<li>
<a id="note16" name="note16"></a>[16] <em>Alor:</em> Leader, boss, Officer, the one in charge and leading the charge. In this case used as a title for Darth Vader, as he is the <em>Alor</em> for the clones. <sup><a href="#back16">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My, my, the investigation seems to be going rather fast, hm? Let's see how that holds up. </p><p>Anyway, since I forgot my own chapter order like a doofus, <i>next week</i> we'll be rejoining Vader and everyone's favorite sunbean for a long-overdue revelation or two. See you again on Sunday, and until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. We Love In The Hope That It Frees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vader lies to himself, Luke has a world-turning discovery, and an ancient saying is proven true: Home really is where the heart is.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ladies, Gents, and Honors, this is what you've all been waiting for! </p><p>Will Luke ever discover Vader's intentions with the Shiranaa tree? Will Vader ever confess to what he wants and who he was? <i>What will it all change??</i> </p><p>Find out in this chapter, as Vader, quite literally, has to face the music! </p><p>No content warnings beyond the usual when we have a Vader PoV, but please, be careful nonetheless. </p><p>Check the end notes for another announcement once you've read through this chapter and <i>enjoy!</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Looking down in wonder at the small form tucked within his arms, Darth Vader could hardly believe that the Force would smile upon him like this.</p><p>Luke, sleeping soundly within his embrace like it was the easiest and most natural thing to do. Like it wasn’t antithetical to everything Vader symbolized within the galaxy. Like he wasn’t a monster wearing the skin in a mockery of man.</p><p>Hugging the little one just a bit closer to him, he stared with a mixture of awe and trepidation as the child nuzzled happy into the hard plastisteel of his armor. Wasn’t the child uncomfortable? Wasn’t he cold? He’d almost frozen Luke when he had lost control just a few hours earlier. He hadn’t meant to, he honestly hadn’t, not with Luke so close and so vulnerable, but then—</p><p>Then the Captain had told him the terrible truth behind the explosion and—</p><p><em>Someone had </em>hurt<em> Luke.</em></p><p>Someone had taken umbrage with the bright, brilliant little star to the point that they sought to harm and kill him and he just— he just <em>lost</em> it.</p><p>Something he had regretted the instant he had felt Luke's presence protest and shiver in cold, the Force trilling with pitiful little cheeps as the little one had attempted to ward off the freezing temperature. He didn’t think he had ever managed to suppress his inner rage as fast as he had managed it then, twisting the neck of the roiling, boiling thing with vicious prejudice as it was <em>hurting Luke.</em> And that would not stand. No matter what, <em>that would not stand.</em></p><p>So he had calmed himself. Beaten down his rage and fear and hatred against those who had <em>dared</em> harm his little star into the depths of his heart where it boiled and spat like acid, slowly eating away at him, but not harming Luke. His rage would be sated later, he was sure of it. Piett was a rare blessing of competence within this madhouse that called itself the armed forces, the man having so far managed to match him step for step no matter what situation Vader threw at him, and he had faith that he would do well in this investigation.</p><p>He had gained confidence that the man would succeed no matter the obstacles when he had witnessed the Captain’s demeanor around the injured child.</p><p>Loathed as he had been to let Luke leave his grasp—even disregarding the potential to wake the child from his much-needed slumber after his breakdown had sapped all his energy—Vader simply elected to keep the little star where he was and discard any notion of appearing professional. Luke was hurt, and appearances could wait until the child was once more laughing and chattering at a hundred lightyears a second about the most inane and <em>fascinating</em> things.</p><p>The Captain’s reaction to that choice had been… interesting to say the least.</p><p>One of the many things Vader appreciated about Piett was that he rarely expressed surprise or terror at his actions for long, often taking them in stride within minutes or hours or, in cases the man deemed more extreme than usual, days. But never did the fear or shock linger for longer than that. Except in one case.</p><p>Luke.</p><p>Always Luke.</p><p>The emotions the Captain had displayed when he had given the report revealing that deliberate sabotage had been committed against the child, that some coward, some thrice-damned bastard spawn of the dregs of sentience had <em>dared to harm—</em></p><p>Three cycles from the respirator passed before he could regain his thoughts. But when he did, he recalled the Captain’s emotions at witnessing the child vulnerable and hurt. There had been the customary surprise that Vader had been expecting. He knew the lens through which he was viewed, and while the image and fear that came with it were useful time to time, he didn’t particularly care to uphold it. It was only the fools and madmen that would decide to disrespect him once the extent to which he cared for the young Engineer became known, and he had little use for either.</p><p>No, it hadn’t been the shock and confusion that had interested him. Rather, it had been the concern, care, a few slivers of pity that he could forgive the man for, and a cold, burning rage that simmered in the background of his mind. The Captain had <em>cared</em> that Luke had gotten hurt, had felt rage and concern as a result. Perhaps that, alongside his need to remain with Luke and guard the child against further harm, was what ultimately made him choose to allow the Captain to continue to spearhead the investigation. He had no doubt the man would throw everything into it until he was met with success.</p><p>And when he did, his rage and fury would be sated.</p><p>The Dark hissed in eager agreement, sliding over his thoughts of bloodlust and revenge with a burning touch that he didn’t recoil from only because of years of conditioning. The Dark didn’t appreciate weakness, after all. Or at least, <em>his</em> weakness.</p><p>The Dark seemed to, for some reason, <em>adore</em> Luke, regardless of what state the child was in, something which he and it could agree on without hesitation.</p><p>Rubbing gentle circles into the little star’s back while the Dark pooled around them like warm ink, he rumbled in concert with its hissing as they sang to the little beacon of iridescence. Sang of the warmth and Suns and Desert that his aching lungs and throat were too sore and raw to sing of anymore, like he had not so long ago.</p><p>He… didn’t know what had prompted him to do so.</p><p>Once upon a time, before the suit, before the Dark, before everything, he had been able to sing. Had… loved to do so, with songs he only half-remembered his— his Mother singing for him when he had still been a child. When the world had still be simple enough and the pain of loss had not yet settled around him like a second skin.</p><p>Songs of the Sandstorm and Suns and Moons and Desert. Songs of her— of <em>Her</em> Children, and the promise that one day, one day they would be free— no, <em>Free.</em> Would be Free if only they were quick and clever enough. Nimble on their feet and minds as the Winds of the Desert guided them along the Paths in whispers.</p><p>She had sung them to him in the depths of the night, when his body had been blue and blackened from the fists of that— <em>that—</em></p><p>He growled low in his chest, and ignored the stinging pain that awakened in his abused lungs and throat. But Luke shifted uneasily against his chest, and he killed the sound without further preamble.</p><p>Once more stroking along the child’s back with a gentleness that his limbs could only achieve with copious use of the Dark, he thought back to what, in the Force’s Name, had possessed him to attempt the folly he had.</p><p>He couldn’t sing. Not anymore. It wasn’t even a question of his vocoder not being fit to produce anything but a monotonous and rumbling voice that barely shifted in tone regardless of how much effort he had put into it in his first months of using it. It wasn’t out of a lack of will, no, the respirator that he had been fitted with, cursed thing, took away all control he had over his breathing. He couldn’t stop it, even if he tried, and by the Force, he had <em>tried</em><em>.</em></p><p>But the device forced air in and out of his ruined, useless lungs regardless of his wishes in the matter, and prevented him from holding any particular tone or sound for any length of time, which had necessitated a… shift in his speech pattern, and a complete abandonment of any musical notion he may have ever had. He couldn’t sing, he was simply no longer physically capable of it.</p><p>But for Luke…</p><p>He threaded a hand through the child’s hair, fascinated by the way it reacted to his touch and slipped through his grasp like silk, and remembered the moment he had decided to try for him anyway.</p><p>Luke had been— suffering a complete breakdown as best he could tell, while recalling memories that were soaked through with his own panic and pain at the child’s suffering. Crying, screaming, and sobbing, Luke had been inconsolable and lost to his own grief and shock, the little star that normally shone so bright transformed into a violent ball of confused emotions that not even the little one himself seemed to be able to untangle. He had been at an utter loss as to what to do, with nothing seeming to calm the child down, even as he had clung to Vader in an embrace he still couldn’t believe had been allowed.</p><p>Luke had cried and screamed and made sounds so heart-wrenching that he didn’t doubt it had shattered whatever tattered remains of his own heart that had been left. It had been something he had never experienced before, and by all that was within the Force and the Dark, he hoped that he never again would have to but—</p><p>It had made him remember something.</p><p>Between all the pain and grief and shock he had remembered something from long ago, half-forgotten, and yet, as clear as a Desert night. Howling winds that beat at the walls with a hiss of flying sand. The drip, drip, dripping of precious water into a basin as a cool cloth stung his wounds. The fear and pain and frustration with his fate and—</p><p>And singing.</p><p>Singing of better times, of escape, of relief. Singing that had calmed him when nothing else would and let him sleep so his wounds may heal. A lullaby of the Desert.</p><p>The words had come back to him slowly, old and unused as they were, with him having had no one to sing them to when he still could. She had been too old to allow him to see her cry and have trouble sleeping when she had first come to him at the start of the war, and he had no longer remembered how by the time they had grown close enough for him to be allowed. She wouldn’t have understood the words or need of the message in either case, but Luke…</p><p>Luke was a Child.</p><p>Luke would understand.</p><p>And so he had tried. He couldn’t sing, not anymore, but if there was anything he had learned over the past months, it’s that for Luke, he would try the impossible twice.</p><p>Strictly speaking, he could survive without his respirator for short moments of time. With a switch and copious use of the Dark to actually make it effective, he could diminish the respirator’s functions until it fed him only miniscule puffs of air at irregular intervals, to mask the pattern of what remained of his breathing. But in order to sing, even that wouldn’t have been effective.</p><p>So he shut the respirator off.</p><p>The difficulty of breathing had set in instantaneously, but with the Force, the Dark, and his own desperation to calm Luke down urging him on, he had managed to establish some form of breathing pattern as he carefully hummed the first few notes of the song. And then a few more. And then some words, until suddenly he was singing a lullaby, the words harsh and stinging within his ruined throat as his lungs had protested.</p><p>But none of that had mattered.</p><p>Not when Luke slowly, but certainly, started to calm down.</p><p>So he had sung through the pain and difficulty and lack of air until the little star lying within his arms had been lulled into a deep sleep, energy exhausted by his grief. He wouldn’t be able to do it again any time soon, and talking would be accompanied by some pain in the days to come, but that was a small issue in the face of what it had given him. Luke, sleeping peacefully, happily within his embrace.</p><p>It was worth it. Without a shadow of a doubt, it was <em>worth it,</em> and so much more.</p><p>He sighed as he quietly ruffled the hair of the little one, the puffs of air out of his respirator making the strands sway in the wind. He wasn’t quite sure what this <em>wouldn’t</em> be worth. He and the Dark rumbled in tune at the little star, and his delight never lessened when he felt him chirp back, stirring slightly as awareness began to set back in. Chiming back and forth at each other within the Force, he felt something within him thaw and melt as slowly, with blessed intervals, Luke began stirring in his sleep. First muttering little sounds that sounded so very much like his signature, then small movements that gradually escalated as his Force presence quieted down, the openness of his mind in dreams giving way to soft contentment in waking.</p><p>‘Mrrh,’ the child muttered as he rubbed his head against Vader's chest plate, the Force singing with sleepy joy.</p><p>Chuckling softly, he tapped the drowsy child gently on the head with two fingers, drawing out a peeping sound. ‘Welcome back to the waking world, little one,’ he greeted fondly.</p><p>‘Mmph,’ Luke returned most intelligently, before blinking open his eyes, sleep still drawing heavily at his eyelids. ‘…Vader?’ he muttered, still half in a haze of dreams.</p><p>The sound of the child addressing him by name without all the pomp and ceremony usually attached to it would never tire him. ‘Yes, little one,’ he agreed, ‘I am here.’</p><p>Luke blinked slowly at him, brow furrowed as he clearly tried to think through his situation before nodding lethargically. ‘Hi,’ he greeted back, before yawning wide and tucking his head back against Vader's chest, closing his eyes with a sleepy sound. ‘No’ ye’,’ he muttered.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at the child from behind his mask, knowing that it wouldn’t be seen and yet, knowing that Luke would know it anyway. ‘Not yet what, little one?’</p><p>Luke grumbled out an unintelligible sound and shook his head, his hair rubbing against Vader's mantle. ‘Don’ wanna wake up ye’,’ he mumbled out into the black armor weave.</p><p>
  <em>Oh child.</em>
</p><p>He rumbled out a laugh and laughed even harder when Luke protested against the shaking of his impromptu pillow. ‘Alright, little one, wake at your own leisure,’ he acquiesced, amusement and sympathy rising within him as he recalled the energy drain that had resulted in Luke being so reluctant to awaken.</p><p>Luke mumbled out something that might have been a thank you, but the fabric stole away the words before they could reach him. Letting the child slumber against him, he continued rubbing soothing circles into Luke's back, sitting quietly while the little star dosed.</p><p>‘Why?’ Luke mumbled at last, eyes still closed and mind still drowsy in the Force.</p><p>He hummed in his throat and ignored the sting. ‘Why what, little one?’</p><p>‘Why le’ me sleep?’ came the muttered reply. ‘’m stoppin’ you fr’m doin’ thin’s.’</p><p>Oh.</p><p>‘Well,’ he rumbled with amusement, Luke's drowsy demeanor emboldening him to allow himself a bit of courage to his honesty, ‘There is nothing I would rather be doing than this, little one.’</p><p>There was a pause in Luke's breathing for a moment, and when he spoke next, his voice was small enough to almost get lost within the folds of his mantle. ‘’eally?’</p><p>‘Yes,’ he replied fondly, truth singing within the Force as the Dark rumbled in agreement. ‘Really.’</p><p>‘Oh.’ There was another pause. ‘An’ wha’ ‘bou’ the thin’s tha’ you need t’ do?’</p><p>His duties, the investigation, the Lady… He had rarely allowed himself the time to take respite from them, not feeling the need aside from meditation and maintenance to keep himself operational but…</p><p>‘They can wait,’ he told the child softly, the words coming easier and more truthful than he had anticipated. ‘This is more important.’ More important that anything he could imagine.</p><p>Luke made a startled noise not unlike that of a small animal being stepped on and cracked an eye open, peeking up at him through his bangs. ‘You serious?’ he asked, sleep still clinging to his voice but much more aware than he had been before.</p><p>‘Entirely,’ he answered the child, feeling no need to hide this. Not from Luke.</p><p>Wide eyes stared up at him, blinking at his words and a multitude of emotions burst to life within the Force like fireworks on Empire Day. ‘Oh.’ Luke lowered his gaze, looking like his entire world had been flipped on its head in a moment. In fact, he looked rather like Vader thought he might whenever Luke managed to surprise him once more with how willing he was to take a space within Vader's heart and, most unbelievably of all, grant him a space in his own in return.</p><p>Embarrassment welled up in the Force, Luke burying his face back into his mantle, and Vader tilted his head as he tried to pinpoint the source of the emotion within Luke, but then— ‘Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else either,’ he mumbled into the armor weave, and Vader nearly asked the child to repeat the statement before it registered and <em>oh.</em></p><p>Oh, <em>Luke.</em></p><p>‘I— I am glad we are in agreement there, little one,’ he managed to choke out, grateful that the vocoder hid the stumbling within his voice.</p><p>‘Can we stay like this a little longer?’ Luke asked, mumbling into his chest. ‘Don’ wanna let go yet.’</p><p>And no one else would be able to say those words and truthfully mean them, no one else but the precious, baffling, <em>impossible</em> child currently clinging to him like a lifeline, professing a desire to remain there for a while longer instead of flinching away as if burned. ‘Of course,’ he agreed, because what else could he say? ‘As long as you like, little star.’</p><p>Luke didn’t respond verbally, but nodded once against his chest plate, gripping his mantle tighter in his one hand. Tightening his own grip around the child, they simply stayed like that, locked in an embrace that they had both apparently needed but neither had dared to ask for. That would have to change. He might not be strictly comfortable with most forms of physical affection—even if the discomfort was greater physically than emotionally—but Luke was a highly tactile person and apparently needed reassurance in this manner. He would have to ensure that Luke would know that he would not object to requests of similar to this. Never mind that being embraced as best as Luke was currently capable of left a warm, pleasant feeling buoying upwards within his chest. That was obviously of no bearing whatsoever.</p><p>Eventually, the silence was broken once more by Luke, and he strained to pick up the words being mumbled into his mantle. ‘How long was I out for?’</p><p>‘Only a couple of hours, Luke,’ he assured. ‘It seemed you had exhausted what little energy reserves you had recovered, and your body required rest before continuing on.’ Something in that answer must’ve meant something more to Luke than just the information he had provided, as the Force around them jolted with something powerful and sudden, as if the child had remembered something important.</p><p>Pushing off of Vader's chest with his left arm and nearly losing his balance in the process when he attempted to use the appendage no longer there to assist him, Luke looked at him with wide eyes. ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘That song, was that <em>you!?’</em></p><p>Oh no. He sighed. Apparently, it was time to face the music. Quite literally, too.</p><p>‘Yes, little one,’ he confessed quietly. ‘That was me.’</p><p>Luke's eyes widened to the size and roundness of marbles, gaping at him like a fish as he opened and closed his mouth various times without so much as a sound escaping before he finally found his voice. ‘But you—! I—! That was a <em>Desert lullaby!’</em> he almost shouted, accusation and confusion and shock warring within his signature for dominance as the child processed the implications of him knowing such a song.</p><p>He hadn’t thought of it at the time, the impulse that drove him towards the act of singing driven more by a desperate desire to soothe Luke's own panic than any real want or need to divulge his own past, not in the least since it would likely encourage Luke to turn a critical eye on all their past interactions, reexamining them through the new lens his once-identity as a Child would lend.</p><p>Especially<em> since it would encourage reexamination,</em> he thought as he recalled how terribly well the gift of a living plant had been received. Luke had accepted it most happily then, when he had thought all that it meant was a gift from a… friend? Mentor? But now? Now that he <em>knew</em> that Vader had known all along what gifting a living piece of greenery meant to the Children?</p><p>But it was too late now. Too late to take it back, too late to apologize. There was no way to explain away his knowledge of a Desert lullaby that didn’t involve revealing his past to perhaps the one living being he wanted to entrust the knowledge to and yet, wished would never, until the heat death of the universe, learn of it.</p><p>He sighed once more, and prepared to lay out his cards on the table. ‘It was,’ he admitted quietly.</p><p>Luke blinked owlishly at him, and then slowly sunk back onto the bed, shock and revelation clinging to him like oil. ‘You are a Child of Her,’ he said, not a hint of hesitation or doubt behind it. A statement, not a question.</p><p>‘Was,’ he corrected softly. ‘Long, long ago. I was only a child when I was taken away from the Desert.’ Nine years old, and his life had changed forever. The first time of many.</p><p>‘The Desert never forgets Her Children,’ Luke countered, seemingly more out of reflex than anything. ‘You are Her Child, even if you have forgotten Her.’</p><p>Had he? He recalled his Mother’s stories only in the deepest recesses of his mind, but Her lessons… Her lessons were not so easily forgotten. Not when they had so often saved his and others’ lives, even as they were derided and belittled, regardless of their practicality. Not when they taught him how to keep his tongue in check against those that would cut it off. Not when they taught him how to <em>survive.</em></p><p>Had he forgotten?</p><p>‘I do not know if I have,’ he admitted to Luke. ‘I <em>was</em> a Child. But I did not forget the lessons taught. I could not, even if I wanted to. But I am a Child no longer, and have not been ever since I was a child, little one.’</p><p>‘But you remember,’ Luke interjected, something… urgent to the edge of his voice. ‘You remember who you once were, and you remember Her, and you remember the Moons, the Suns, and the Sandstorm.’</p><p>Yes. <em>Yes</em>, he did but— ‘I do not see how this has any relevance,’ he deflected. ‘I was once a Child, and I was Freed. That is all.’</p><p>‘But… you <em>are</em> a Child,’ Luke said with a soft tone, something sparking in his eyes even as a hint of hesitation crept in. ‘A mother doesn’t forget her child, and the Desert doesn’t forget Hers. You and I are <em>Siblings</em> in Her eyes, regardless of how we view ourselves. You and I are <em>connected.’</em></p><p>And oh, <em>that</em> was what this was about. ‘We do not need the Desert to know we have a connection, Luke,’ he objected. ‘Little one, I am not a Child anymore. Even if I was, once, long ago, I have long since severed all ties I once had to that planet.’</p><p>Something hurt and vulnerable flashed within the child’s eyes. <em>‘All</em> ties?’ he asked, voice quiet and small.</p><p>
  <em>E chu ta!</em>
</p><p>‘All but one,’ he corrected, and Luke's eyes brightened. ‘But you are overestimating my attachment to that planet if you are under the impression that I am in any way eager to reclaim it as mine. I was glad to be taken off of that rock, and it has brought me nothing but misery since with very few exceptions.’</p><p>‘And you think I wasn’t happy to be off of it?’ Luke countered with a raised eyebrow. ‘You think I wanted to spend the rest of my life there?’ He scoffed. ‘Of course not. But it was, and still is, home.’ The child smiled softly and there was a tinge of nostalgia to his Force presence. ‘It raised me, shaped me, and it did so for you too, however brief you felt it was, or how long ago. The Desert never forgets, but… I don’t think you did either. Not really, not where it <em>matters.</em> You say you remember the lessons taught to the Children, and you sung a lullaby to prove it. You remember, and isn’t that the Pact made between a Child and Her?’</p><p>Clever child. Quick, clever child. ‘Perhaps,’ he acknowledged begrudgingly. ‘But the Name of Child is not yours to bestow, little one,’ he chided. ‘I choose not to Name myself a Child, and have so for the longest time.’</p><p>Immediately Luke ducked his head, embarrassed, and nodded quickly. ‘Right. Sorry, Vader.’</p><p>‘Thank you, little one,’ he said, relieved that at least that topic would be dropped. ‘It is not a pleasant memory for me, and while I understand what you are attempting, I would… rather forget that part of my life.’</p><p>Something bright and understanding sparked in Luke's eyes, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘The Right to Secrecy,’ he murmured lowly. ‘Alright. I understand.’</p><p>He had never been more grateful for that Right than in this moment. The Right to Secrecy; a right any Freed could invoke with the Children to be never addressed as anything but Free, for any number of reasons, even if they would always be remembered. Vader was not that little boy who had been thrust into the wider galaxy with nary a care all those years ago, even if some part of him still carried the Name. He did not wish to be associated with the dregs of his past. He was Darth Vader, and even if that Name had been thrust upon him and was the Name of a monster, it was hardly anything different to his previous Name. To be Named after the Wrath of the Suns didn’t exactly leave much room for an alternative interpretation of who he was.</p><p>Luke hardly needed to know that though. ‘Exactly right,’ he rumbled as he folded his hands in his lap. ‘I do not mind speaking of Tatooine if you so desire, little one, but I am no Child, and it is no home of mine, regardless of what once was.’</p><p>Luke chewed on the inside of his mouth as he nodded to Vader. ‘Alright, I can understand that. What— what happened though? If I may ask,’ he hastily tacked on, eyes wide as he looked up to Vader.</p><p>‘You may,’ Vader reassured him, ‘And it is… no grand tale, little one, merely the story of a slave child born to a slave Mother, sold and surviving at the whims of others until one day, as a child, I was given the chance at Freedom.’ He sighed. ‘I took it, and I never looked back.’</p><p>‘Was there… was there anyone you left behind?’ the child asked carefully.</p><p>Left behind… ‘My Mother,’ he confessed softly. ‘She was not given a chance at Freedom like I was, but urged me to take mine. I… only saw her again when she was dying. She is no more.’</p><p><em>‘May she rest Free amongst the Moons,’</em> the little star muttered quietly, the prayer in an ancient tongue bringing back stings of memory to his mind.</p><p><em>‘And may the Suns avenge her death,’</em> he agreed just as quietly, completing the prayer for the first time in… decades, even as his tongue had trouble with the words not spoken since the world was so much less weary.</p><p>Luke nodded absently, thoughts spinning around him in the Force like embers lighting off of a fire. ‘Do you—,’ he began eventually, stumbling over the words. ‘Do you keep her Name in your heart?’</p><p><em>“Do you safeguard her Name?”</em> was the unspoken question.</p><p>‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I can… think of only a handful of people who might still know her Name.’ Her family, as he had never Named them as his, but they would not know the monster she had birthed. ‘Her Name is safe.’ He shook his head. ‘And you, little one? Are there any Names you keep within your heart?’</p><p>Luke fidgeted with the blanket still covering his legs, right arm visibly being kept still at his side as he nodded. ‘Yeah, my Grandmother and my father. No idea about my mother, but those two are within my heart. And I think only my Aunt and Uncle remember them besides me. And— a couple others,’ he admitted in a near whisper.</p><p><em>‘May they rest Free amongst the Moons,’</em> he returned carefully, his mouth tripping and stumbling through the payer even as the words flowed back into his mind like fresh spring water.</p><p>Luke smiled with a grateful and well-worn sadness. <em>‘And may the Desert always remember their Names,’</em> he completed quietly, dipping his head in gratitude. The prayer of remembrance instead of vengeance, they had died a peaceful or unknown death then.</p><p>Luke nodded with pursed lips and wiped a sleeve past his eyes with two quick movements, before huffing out a quiet laugh. ‘Too bad that we don’t have any tea here,’ he muttered, ‘I feel like we should’ve shared some for this.’</p><p>He chuckled. ‘It would be rather difficult for me to consume, little one,’ he pointed out. ‘My condition doesn’t exactly lend itself to consuming sustenance in any other manner than intravenous. Unless you could manage to compress the tea into a form compatible with my systems, I would be unable to consume it.’ A fact that was rather commonplace to himself, but that evidently was something of a shock to Luke.</p><p>‘Wait,’ he said, the Force swimming with gradually swelling horror. <em>‘Really?</em> You just— can’t eat or drink anything? Not even tea? <em>Or water?’</em> the child asked him aghast, eyes large and saddened.</p><p>An understandable reaction, he too had been upset when he first learned that he would never again be able to eat or drink, his sustenance delivered directly into his digestive system for the rest of his life, but he had grown accustomed to it. Learned to appreciate aspects of it as well, as he no longer needed to take a large chunk of time out of his day to accommodate his bodily needs. The nutrient slurry that he lived off of could be injected into his stomach in a mere minute or two, and once the task was completed he needed to pay no more considerations to his body’s demands. It was functional and efficient.</p><p>‘No, little one,’ he replied patiently. ‘My throat and esophagus are largely ruined, and unable to function very well or at all for their original purposes. My sustenance has to be injected into me, not fed.’</p><p>‘That sounds <em>horrible,’</em> Luke blurted out, a profound sympathy and care swirling both in the Force and deep within his eyes as he looked at Vader. ‘And there’s nothing—?’</p><p>‘—To be done?’ Vader finished easily, resignation to his own condition as deep seated within him as the marrow in his bones. ‘No, little one, I am afraid not. My injuries were too extensive for a full recovery, and this state will be the one I live in until I die.’</p><p>‘But you’re still fighting and working and following orders?’ Luke asked, voice small.</p><p>‘My work is never done, Luke,’ he explained gently. ‘And there are few who could perform any one of my tasks, let alone all of them. I am still functional, and so I continue on and follow my Master’s orders. That is my fate.’</p><p>With those words, Luke looked down at his lap and Vader wondered what the child could be thinking with that tumultuous storm of emotions building within him when suddenly—</p><p>‘Your Master?’ the child asked quietly, something ancient and sad within his voice. ‘You said you were Free—’</p><p>‘I am Free,’ he cut in tersely, already seeing where the child was going with his thoughts and not approving in the slightest. ‘My Master is not a Master in a manner you would understand, Luke, and he commands me as his Apprentice, not his—’ he cut himself off, unable to bring himself to say the word and speak it into reality, the Dark hissing in amusement at his cowardice, fangs of fire sinking into him, burning, blackening, weakening, sapping him of his strength. ‘I am Free,’ he repeated sternly, willing it to be true. He was Free, or as Free as any monster deserved to be.</p><p>‘Alright,’ Luke agreed, voice small and quiet and filled with uncertainty that Vader hated he had put there. ‘I— don’t understand, but alright.’</p><p>‘Enough about me,’ he said, forcing his voice into something as gentle as the vocoder would allow, unwilling to impose further facts of his abysmal existence on the child. He had made his choices and paid his dues for them, they were not the child’s burdens to bear. ‘What is done is done, little one, and it will not change simply because we wished it. I am managing my situation well enough, and have been doing so for the last two decades. There is no need to go in further to the past when the present is still here.’</p><p>‘One last question!’ Luke blurted out. ‘Please? Then I’ll stop asking about it and won’t bring it up again!’ the child bargained, eyes wide and pleading and his presence open with curiosity and nervousness and— He sighed. Force, he was going soft.</p><p>‘Do not make promises you cannot keep, little one,’ he chided with a tired smile, already resigning himself to another round of questioning. ‘But very well, I will allow one more question. What is it you need to know this urgently?’</p><p>Luke shifted in place and averted his eyes, a nervous energy permeating the air as the child opened and close his mouth a number of times in fruitless attempts to find the words he wished to say. The Dark hummed with anticipation, and the world around them stilled until all that was left was just the two of them.</p><p>‘Little one?’ he asked, feeling the nervousness in the air press down on his own psyche.</p><p>‘Did you mean it!?’ the child blurted out, eyes wild and desperate. ‘The tree. Did you— Did you <em>mean</em> it?’ he asked and oh.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>There it was.</p><p>‘I mean, I get if you didn’t and you said that you don’t want to be reminded of— of the Children,’ Luke stammered out, voice shaking as he attempted to gather his words and wits while Vader blanked worse than he had in decades. ‘But you gave me a <em>tree—’</em> the child continued, ‘—and— and that <em>means</em> something. Or, I thought and hoped it meant something—’ Wait, what? ‘—but if you didn’t, that’s okay too and—’</p><p>‘Little one,’ he said, his voice still feeling like it was coming from very far away as he attempted to reach back to Luke, his mind restarting achingly slow now that it had been confronted with one of his worse fears.</p><p>‘—And I really get that I shouldn’t assume things, but it’s a <em>tree</em> and—'</p><p>‘Little one,’ he repeated, and his mind was once more catching up with the situation. Luke knew. Luke <em>knew</em> and it didn’t— it didn’t sound like he was <em>upset</em> with Vader. Instead, he seemed more… nervously hopeful?</p><p>‘—and I honestly just want to <em>know</em> and it doesn’t have to mean anything but did you—’</p><p><em>‘Luke,’</em> he said firmly, letting his voice rumble deep and carry the authority in it that could bring even Tarkin to heel.</p><p>Luke's mouth clicked shut with a sound that somehow managed to both be shocked and sheepish, and looked at him with wide, innocent eyes that reflected a fragile hope from within the child’s heart out into the world.</p><p>He swallowed with some difficulty and gathered as much courage as he still possessed within the tattered wreck of his heart. ‘I— I did gift that tree to you with— with some meaning attached to it,’ he admitted, his voice hoarse and airy enough that he almost feared the vocoder wouldn’t pick up his words. ‘The— the traditional meaning, that is.’</p><p>Luke's mouth opened and closed without a sound, and he soldiered onwards before his courage deserted him completely.</p><p>‘I do not expect reciprocation,’ he elaborated quickly. ‘Or any kind of favorable response. And I do not expect for you to make up your mind on the matter right this moment, but—’ he hesitated, some childish and immature part of him wishing that some foolish rebel cell would just begin causing a ruckus at this moment so he didn’t have to finish this sentence, even as he knew that he had to live up to his fearless reputation at least here. Just this once, where it <em>mattered.</em></p><p>He sighed deeply. ‘But I did mean the message that such a gift conveys, little one,’ he admitted to a wide-eyed and shock-still Luke. <em>‘You are my Home</em><em>.’</em></p><p>He closed his eyes as he glimpsed Luke's hand fly to cover his gasp, the ancient words having left his mouth, unable to be taken back, and he was certain that this was it for him. ‘I know that this— likely isn’t what you wanted to hear,’ he continued, even as his courage bled out of him, ‘Or even what you hoped for, but I believe it is best to face the difficult truth rather than the pleasant lie. I will leave you be from this moment forward, of course, if you request it and— <em>umph!’</em></p><p>His words cut off as his eyes flew open, the Dark cheerfully chirping out a warning, and he barely registered a light-haired blur slamming into him as a single arm squeezed him close as tightly as its strength would allow. Still reeling from the unexpected shock of gaining an armful of wildly howling emotions in the form of an oh-so precious child, he barely registered a choked sob being released into his mantle-covered shoulder, Luke tucking his head deep into where his chest plate and collar met.</p><p>‘Little one?’ he asked, shock quieting his voice as he tentatively wrapped his hands around the shuddering form of his little star.</p><p>Luke shook his head, face still pressed tightly against him as quiet, hitching sobs made their way out of the fold of his mantle and into the air. ‘You idiot,’ he heard the child mutter into his shoulder.</p><p>Blinking at the unexpected insult, he attempted to turn his head towards Luke but was stopped by a protesting sound. ‘Pardon?’</p><p>Luke laughed out a watery chuckle as he hugged him tighter. ‘You’re an idiot,’ he repeated, ‘For thinking that I would <em>ever</em> want you to leave.’ He heaved out another shuddering breath that wasn’t quite a sob. ‘Suns and <em>sand,</em> Vader,’ he whispered out, and Vader had to strain to hear, ‘If you’d just said so when you gave it to me, I could’ve told you this already.’ Luke hugged himself closer to Vader, laughing through his tears. <em>‘You’re my Home too</em><em>.’</em></p><p>O—</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>Luke laughed softly, shoulders shaking under Vader's arms. ‘Yeah, <em>“oh,”’</em> he shot back playfully. ‘Didn’t you think there was a <em>reason</em> why I didn’t want to leave the Lady?’</p><p>He grumbled internally; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But truth be told, he had thought about it. Thought about it, and then immediately discarded the possibility that it could in any way be because of him. He knew that Luke enjoyed the challenge of working on the Lady, and the projects that came his way as Head Engineer. He knew that the child enjoyed making fast friends with all manner of people aboard the ship. And he knew that he enjoyed travelling amongst the stars, much like he did. To think that <em>he</em> could be the reason for not wishing to leave <em>all that </em>seemed… unbearably arrogant to the point repugnance.</p><p>But here they were, and Luke— Luke was—</p><p>‘I thought you might have different reasons,’ he admitted, feeling far too vulnerable and yet, not wanting the moment to pass. ‘I know you enjoy your work here, and that you have a… particular proclivity for forging pacts and making allies.’</p><p>‘You mean friends,’ Luke mumbled into his shoulder, just like Vader knew he would.</p><p>‘As you say, little one,’ he continued in a teasing tone, poking the child in the sides and earning a watery giggle, “Same difference.”</p><p>Luke made a protesting sound as he knocked his forehead against Vader's chest plate. ‘You did that on purpose!’ he accused, indignation falling flat as it was muffled by layers of armor weave and plastisteel armor.</p><p>He rumbled out a chuckled but confirmed nothing, something that had Luke's Force signature flare with a spike of annoyance so dearly similar to a pout. This child, this <em>wonderful</em> child.</p><p>‘You’re gonna have to admit it someday,’ Luke grumbled into his mantle.</p><p>‘I have no idea what you are talking about, little one,’ he countered playfully.</p><p>Luke grumbled a bit more as he tucked himself into Vader's side properly, making himself comfortable as Vader once more drew his mantle around him, ensuring that the temperature of the room wouldn’t affect the recovering little one in too drastic a fashion. They sat in silence for a moment, and Vader thought that might be the end of their discussion, but he was proven wrong when Luke spoke up once more.</p><p>‘It wasn’t them, you know,’ he said, voice calm and satisfied but somehow still managing to convey a sense of weight to the words.</p><p>‘Hm?’ he hummed back, unwilling to break the silence with the rumbling of the vocoder when he could just listen to Luke speak.</p><p>‘It wasn’t them,’ Luke repeated, ‘That made me want to stay.’ He shifted a bit against Vader, and with a gentle pulse of the Dark, he alleviated the discomfort in Luke's posture, drawing him up a bit further without adding any more strain on the child’s still recovering body. ‘Sure, they’re all great friends, and I would miss them all terribly if had to leave, but…’ He shrugged a shoulder, bumping it against his chest plate, ‘They’re not you.’ He sighed contentedly as he rested in Vader's embrace, comfort and warmth rippling softly within the Force. ‘They’re not my Home.’</p><p>Oh. He— well, he—</p><p>‘Which I could’ve told you,’ Luke continued pointedly, ‘If you’d just have told me a bit earlier that you were <em>also</em> familiar with what it meant.’ His head shifted a bit and one eye peeked up at him. ‘Why didn’t you, anyway? You said you meant it that way, but without you telling me, there was no way I could’ve known, so… why didn’t you?’</p><p>It was too much to ask to be allowed to avoid that kind of humiliation, he supposed. Feeling embarrassment well up inside him as he recalled his reasons, he ruthlessly squashed the urge to shift his weight out of nerves. ‘I— I had… honestly forgotten that you were… unaware of my knowledge on the subject, little one,’ he admitted, for once feeling a different kind of heat burn his skin under his mask. ‘This was… after you had finished recounting me with your own philosophies and rhetoric regarding the use of foliage indoors and I… decided to act on a favorable impulse, forgetting that you were uninformed about my past.’</p><p>Luke jerked his head back to look Vader in the eye, bright eyes somehow managing to meet his own through the red lenses without fail or falter, incredulousness written in every line of his face. ‘You <em>forgot?’</em> he asked disbelievingly. <em>‘You</em><em>?’   </em></p><p>‘I admit that it was not one of my finer moments,’ he agreed begrudgingly.</p><p>Luke blinked one, twice, thrice, and then shook his head with a small smile. ‘And they say you’re just a big, bad ball of intimidation and terror,’ he teased, and Vader— Vader would normally not allow a dismissal of his abilities and well-earned reputation in this manner, but, as in all things, Luke was an exception.</p><p>Still, appearances had to be maintained, and he tapped the child on the head in playful reprimand, Luke ducking his head to poorly hide a smile as Vader chided him. ‘I will have you know that that reputation is far from smoke and mirrors, little one.’</p><p>Luke nudged his head against Vader's still outstretched arm with a playful little bump and grinned. ‘Oh, I don’t doubt it. But underneath all that spikey cold and hardness you’re someone worth knowing, worth liking, and don’t think that I don’t know it.’</p><p>And that— He didn’t know how to respond to that.</p><p>Luke found his inability to respond all too amusing. ‘Loth-cat got your tongue?’ he asked.</p><p>‘Hmph,’ he responded eloquently, averting his eyes from the laughing bright ones, feeling a distinct sense of uneasy warmth as Luke chuckled lightly at his discomfort. ‘I suppose so.’</p><p>‘But you’re still avoiding the question,’ Luke said as he sobered up a bit. ‘You forgot that I wouldn’t have known that you knew about the traditions of the Desert, but you could’ve just told me then. So… why didn’t you?’ he asked, tilting his head inquisitively.</p><p>Why hadn’t he? He sighed, and felt a familiar weariness sink in as he prepared to tell the truth. ‘Because I feared your rejection,’ he admitted quietly, and with more difficulty than he strictly wanted to admit to. ‘I— You were happy with your gift, talking about its Nubian heritage and the legends attached to it and I— I did not want to chance ruining such happiness. You were content with what you thought the gift was, and I… did not possess the courage to correct you and risk rejection. I— I apologize.’</p><p>Luke looked at him for a moment with an indecipherable expression, before humming low in his throat as he tucked himself back into Vader's side without preamble. ‘So I guess even you can be afraid of things, huh?’ he noted softly.</p><p>‘I fear many a thing,’ he corrected. ‘I simply learned how to disregard it when I deem it inconvenient. Correcting your assumption on the gift’s nature is simply a time that ability failed.’</p><p>‘With bad timing too,’ Luke noted idly. ‘If you’d just asked me, I could’ve told you I wanted more than <em>anything</em> for that gift to mean what I now know it meant. I just… didn’t think it was possible. What were the chances that you would come from the same dustball I did?’</p><p>‘What chances indeed,’ he agreed absently, recalling how, during their first meeting face-to-mask, something had… sparked. Something long dormant that he’d thought dead had sparked that day when he had waited at the entrance ramp of the shuttle, watching this small slip of a child haul along a rucksack and duffle bag after having bade a tearful goodbye to his too-familiar guardians that were all too familiar to Vader. He hadn’t wanted to remember the Lars, and if it weren’t for the fact that Luke was their adoptive ward, he still wouldn’t.</p><p>But they were, and so he did. As well as how the Force had <em>sung</em> the moment Luke stepped aboard. Something hopeful and soft like he hadn’t heard in nearly two decades—</p><p>‘It was fate,’ he stated confidently. ‘The will of the Force.’</p><p> ‘Yeah,’ Luke agreed as he made himself just that bit more comfortable, the Force humming with his contentment. ‘It sure was something, alright.’ He yawned, and huddled down, what little energy the child had apparently regained in his few hours of respite used up in the tumultuous talk they had just had, welcome and awe inspiring though it was.</p><p>‘Tired, little one?’ he asked, perhaps a bit needlessly, but basking in the simple joy of it all nonetheless.</p><p>‘Mhmm,’ Luke mumbled back. ‘Don’t know why, I only just woke up.’</p><p>‘You’ve gone through an intense ordeal these last couple of days,’ he pointed out to the sleepy youth. ‘Your body is still recovering, and it may take a while before your energy levels are back to their original state.’ He brushed a hand over Luke's head, and something inside him lit up when Luke leaned into his touch with a happy little sound. ‘Sleep if you need to, little one,’ he whispered with a gentleness he didn’t know he still possessed. ‘I will be here when you wake once more. To talk, or merely to keep you company.’</p><p>‘Y’ don’t have t’, y’know?’ Luke muttered back, voice and mind already lapsing back into the hazy fog of sleep and rest. ‘I won’ mind if you deci— decide—’ Luke's face contorted around a jaw-cracking yawn and something warm flowed into Vader's chest like the tea he could no longer drink, ‘—decide to do something else,’ he continued, ‘S gotta be borin’ t’ wait f’r me t’ wake up.’</p><p><em>Not in the slightest,</em> he thought as he gazed down at the little star slowly drifting off to sleep. ‘Allow me this selfishness then, little one,’ he muttered as he began rubbing a thumb over the back of Luke's hand. ‘Because there is nowhere I would rather be.’ Truly a selfish choice. There was work to do, and he had yet to complete the design for a suitable prothesis, but—</p><p>‘M’kay,’ Luke whispered back, voice already sounding like it was taking much effort to respond that much.</p><p>Vader sighed. But there was truly nowhere he would rather be.</p><p>‘Sleep, little star,’ he muttered, ‘No one will harm you while I stand watch.’</p><p>‘I know,’ his Home told him, voice barely more than a puff of air as sleep finally dragged his consciousness down into the sea of dreams. ‘I trust you.’</p><p>If it wasn’t for the respirator, his breath would have hitched. As it was, no sound interrupted the slow cycling of the machinery and Luke's presence once more quieted down to a little star, humming with contented rest and a peaceful mind despite all that had occurred.</p><p>Staring in marvelment at the little wonder he held within his grasp, all he could think was that if the Force would grant him one last undeserving mercy and freeze time in this moment, he would be content to experience nothing but this until the end of times. Here, where Luke knew about the Tatooinian heritage in his gift and accepted it wholeheartedly. Here, where a bright, bright star could look at him, and call him his Home.</p><p>Here, where the world, for the first time in decades, felt soft and light like spun clouds on a warm evening, and like nothing could matter except for the adoration and care he felt for this child.</p><p>Reality would reassert itself soon enough as the clocked ticked by. They would need to talk about what they had said, and work out what this meant for the both of them. Luke would still be injured beyond bearing, there would still be a traitor on the loose, and the knowledge that this warmth couldn’t last for him would reemerge.</p><p>But for now, that could wait.</p><p>Here, in this moment as time stood still, he held the entirety of his world in his arms. And would remember it as perfect for all times to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Plays the closing notes on the piano* Well then, here it begins. </p><p>Luke and Vader now have found the frequency on which both of them operate and are slowly aligning their signals. They can communicate what they both want from the other in terms they both understand, and talk about the world and their view on it in a similar way. Let's see what that brings us, hm?</p><p>I'll see you all next week on Sunday, but before you go, please check the notes bellow this for one more announcement. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Forge It Into The Bones Of Conviction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A surgery is planned, a small revelation is had, and plans that will turn the galaxy on its head start taking form.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ladies, Gents, and Honors! We're here with the next chapter! But before anything else, I have a statement to make that I'm sorry to say appears necessary. It was written by the incredible ChaoticNeutral18 and signed by all of us. I ask that you not skip this. </p><p> </p><p>  <b>An Open Letter To The Readers Of The Guides</b></p><p> </p><p>We will start this off by thanking all of you for your outpourings of support for the Guides Verse, and note that the vast majority of you are absolutely wonderful, kind, tolerant human beings. That being said, there is unfortunately the need to remind some of the undeniable fact that the Guides Verse is Queer with a capital Q, and you cannot disconnect the Guides or the characters from their characterizations in the story. </p><p>This ‘verse began as a gift from Jackdaw, who is non-binary, trans, and ace as hell, for @loosingletters who is also trans. Half of the Guides team is trans, three of us are queer, the token cishet exudes queer energy anyways, and all four of us will <i>never</i> tolerate any hate or slurs and will take immediate action if we see any of it. </p><p>Yes, there are trans characters in the Guides, many more than one. All female clones are trans, Erribas is a nonbinary man who uses they/them pronouns, and there are many more who haven’t been introduced yet. Luke himself is Ace in this verse and if he ever does have a romance, which is an enormous <i>IF</i>, it will be with a man and won’t be a main focus of anything. </p><p>There are characters from many different backgrounds, some who wear headscarves, a huge spectrum of skin colors, different cultures, and much more. If any of what’s listed bothers you, you may choose to stop reading the Guides, and we would urge you to educate yourself on your biases because racism, homophobia, transphobia, exclusionists, etc, are not tolerated in any capacity here and will be less tolerated as time goes on in the world. Those views are outdated and disgusting, so please do not sully the Guides with them. Of course, if after you’ve educated yourself and would like to come back to the Guides, you’ll be welcomed back. After all, this entire ‘verse is about second chances, and it won’t be done until at least 2025 at the current rate, so there’s plenty of time to educate yourself. (You’re acting like real-life Ozzels, and no one likes it.)</p><p>To the others who do not hold these views and are reading this: thank you for staying with us and employing compassion and kindness. This is a response to a transphobic comment, to set the record (ironically) straight once and for all. This is a place for appreciation of others, a safe haven for those who need it where vitriol towards any but the antagonists is banished, where creativity hopefully blossoms. And we will protect this with every fiber of our being.</p><p>-Jackdaw Kraai, ChaoticNeutral18, Writing_is_THORapy, loosingletters</p><p>Thank you for reading. Without further ado: the trigger list.</p><ol>
<li>Descriptions of a minor emotional breakdown</li>
<li>Discussions of surgery</li>
<li>Discussions of abuse victim mentalities</li>
</ol><p>Take care, and <i>enjoy.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say that waking up again twice on the same day was a mixed bag for Luke Skywalker would be an understatement of the highest order.</p><p>Granted, waking up to find that his Home and definitely-more-than-just-a-mentor Darth Vader was still holding him in the single best hug he’d ever had was a plus. Learning that he would have to temporarily be released from said hug because the Medics assigned as his primary physicians needed to examine the stump that he still couldn’t quite look at without something getting stuck in his throat was a definite downside, though.</p><p>Thankfully, Vader had agreed to stay throughout his examination, and even if Luke did feel a bit guilty for taking up so much of the man’s time, he’d never been more grateful for Vader's continued presence. The man grounded him, and comforted him, through something that was—in all brutal honesty—scaring Luke half out of his mind. For fuck’s sake, he’d lost a <em>hand.</em> And yet, no matter how terrifying that all was, it helped to know that Vader had gone through it too, and seemed to be just fine with that fact now. There was a lot about the man that was obviously <em>not</em> fine, but none of that stuff (thankfully) applied to Luke, and he really did seem to do just fine with his replacement arm.</p><p>It gave him hope, if nothing else. Hope that this whole thing, while bad, wouldn’t be the end of him, and that he’d learn to take it in stride.</p><p>Something that had only been reinforced when he met the two primary Medics assigned to his case. Two human women, one Medic Valent and one Medic Pelli, who were apparently experts at caring for and healing severe burns and amputations respectively.</p><p>Medic Valent was an older woman, with harsh lines in her face and snow-white hair short enough that Luke had to wonder if it was shorn. It all gave her a sever and serious look that made Luke just the tiniest bit wary of her, but as soon as she had started to introduce herself, he’d quickly realized that for all that she was a very no-nonsense person, she wasn’t too uptight about things either, and was happy to interact with him in a relaxed manner. Something that he appreciated greatly for the fact that it was harder for him to be unaffected by people while he was sat down in a medical bed and still feeling very weak and vulnerable.</p><p>Medic Pelli, on the other hand, was a lot younger, and far more stoic than her older colleague, and her standard-issue pale gray headscarf only served to underscore the sharpness within her own pale eyes. She spoke gently to him though, and even as her words were clipped and to the point, she was never short with him or dismissed his concerns.</p><p>All in all, Luke decided that he liked Medic Valent and Pelli pretty quickly, even if they both seemed to be various degrees of wary of Vader. It was pretty understandable though, Vader was in full fussing mode, and hovered over him like a certified mother hen. Not that Luke was complaining, things were honestly so far out of his comfort zone at the moment that he didn’t even know where to begin with <em>anything</em>. It made the fact that Vader was always there to supply him with extra information on how things like phantom pains felt and prostheses worked something he was incredibly grateful for.</p><p>Which led them to the situation where he was now; hearing the explanation of what the various options were for him by Medic Pelli, or Tai’li, as she had told him he was allowed to call her.</p><p>‘—and while phantom pains may always remain a problem,’ she explained to him with help of a schematic on her datapad, ‘They can be mitigated if the neurons have somewhere to connect to.’ She sighed out a short breath. ‘I will not pretend it will be easy, Engineer Lars, and according to many amputees, the process of acclimating to a new prosthetic limb can be rather painful the first few days or weeks, depending on how adaptable you are. You’re still young though, and that might work to your advantage here.’ She switched to the next page that showcased various programs for amputees, all aboard the Lady according to the header. ‘And there are other people aboard who can help you with the experience, if you so wish. There’s veterans and people of all ages who lost a limb in manners similar to your own experience, and I’m sure there’s plenty of them who’d be willing to talk to you about their experiences.’</p><p>That… actually sounded nice. He didn’t know if he’d be able to do it right away, but it definitely sounded nice to be able to talk about it all with all kinds of people, even if  it was just to know that there were others going through the same thing like him and Vader. But if there were people aboard with prostheses…</p><p>‘I take it they all accepted the neural-connected prostheses if they’re still serving?’ he asked, picking up on a common theme here. Besides, he doubted even the Empire would be willing to squeeze a soldier to the point where they would be allowed to serve with a non-neural-connected prosthesis. If only because of the possibility for diminished performance that could cost even <em>more</em> in supplies than it gained them.</p><p>Tai’li nodded. ‘It’s one of the requirements to remain in service of the Empire. Or well,’ she said as she glanced quickly at Vader, ‘One of the requirements for active combat duty at the very least.’</p><p>About what he had expected, but it was still good to get confirmation. ‘I see,’ he said quietly, weighing all the options in his mind. He had no doubt that he wanted a prosthesis, needed one, in fact, if he was to ever continue working on mechanics and all manner of things. And even if it didn’t feel quite real yet, he also knew that the sooner he made a decision on all this, the better. It <em>was</em> a medical procedure, after all. He sighed. ‘And… are there any risks to all this?’</p><p>A neural-connected prosthesis sounded good, almost too good to be true, and a part of him instinctively raised its hackles at the possibility of deception in it all, even as he rationally knew that Vader would’ve never allowed or suggested this before Tai’li did if there was deception at work.</p><p>‘A few,’ Tai’li admitted without hesitation. ‘There are, of course, the usual risks of complications associated with any surgery, but seeing as we already operated on you once, we know what to expect of your reactions to various factors. That isn’t even accounting for the fact that it won’t be an emergency procedure this time. Further risks include potential nerve damage, either during the surgery or at any point afterwards, that may require either minor bacta treatment, or full submersion depending on the severity of the damage. The usual damage is much more localized to the ports themselves though, and there has been extensive research into diminishing such risks and treating such injuries.’ She shook her head as she pulled up another file on her datapad, loaded with statistics of all kinds.</p><p>‘There is the small possibility that your body rejects the ports as well. In which case it could be very difficult or even impossible to give you a neural-connected prosthesis, and you might have to settle for a non-connected prosthesis in that case.’ She readjusted the datapad away from Luke and began to pull up various files judging from her quick, jabbing motions at the screen. ‘There are other, rarer complication that might arise, but those occur in such a low percentage of patients that they are considered fringe cases at best, and were usually already predicted to happen due to symptoms displayed before the operation.’ She sat back in her chair, tilting her head.</p><p>‘Overall,’ she said, concluding her summary, ‘There are, proportionally speaking, more risks associated with the neural-connected protheses, but in a sheer cost-benefit analysis, the benefits usually outweigh the risks by quite a large margin. The risks too have been mitigated with years of research and development. Generally speaking, it’s as sound a medical option as any other surgery of similar nature.’</p><p>Luke chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered the information given to him. The risks did sound worrisome, but he agreed with Tai’li that even just looking at it from his own perspective provided him no real reasons to turn down a neural-connected prosthesis in favor of a non-connected one that would barely allow him more than pincer motions and wouldn’t ever allow him to regain any kind of sensory feelings from his right hand again. The choice was easy but…</p><p>‘Luke,’ a low voice rumbled like thunder, and he looked up to see the towering black figure of Vader approaching his bedside once more, causing nearly everyone else in the room to flinch away. He, however, leant into the man’s touch when he rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘Medic Pelli knows her field,’ Vader informed him quietly. ‘There is scarcely anyone better versed in this aspect of medical intervention than her. You can trust her.’</p><p>He briefly smiled up at the man, hoping he would understand the unspoken gratitude for alleviating some of his worries. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tai’li, it was just…</p><p>He sighed. It was new. It was frightful. And it was something some part of him didn’t really want to face yet, even with all the understanding and kind aid he was being offered. But there was no running from this.</p><p>And Vader… Vader seemed to understand that. Seemed to understand Luke's shaken resolve and how he sometimes felt like he was just seconds away from another breakdown after feeling just fine moments before. And he had kept close to him, even while it was likely a boring task to do while Luke slept the hours away whenever he ran out of energy. He kept close, and allowed Luke to lean on him.</p><p>Breathing in deeply in an attempt to stabilize some of his worst howling emotions, Luke looked back at Tai’li, who was giving him an understanding look.</p><p>‘I know this must be coming too fast, too soon, Luke,’ she told him quietly. ‘But it’s best to do these kinds of procedures as soon as possible, to minimize later complications, so decisions of this nature unfortunately have to be made on an incredibly short notice. For what it’s worth, I wish you had more time to process this before you had to decide on something as major as a surgery.’ </p><p>‘Would you recommend this then?’ he blurted out before he had even really registered the question forming in his mind. She blinked at him, and he used the opportunity to steamroll on before he lost his nerve. ‘All my hang-ups and hesitations aside, what would you, as a Medic, recommend I do? In all honesty and without mincing your words, would you recommend this?’</p><p>She closed her eyes for a moment and furrowed her brow in thought, but nodded resolutely only a moment later. ‘Yes,’ she said as she opened her eyes again, ‘I would. In all my time as a surgeon and specialist in amputations, I’ve seen time and time again that, when possible and properly integrated, a neural-connected prosthesis consistently gives my patients a higher quality of life and health than the other options. Even if it were just on long-term pain management, both physical and psychological, the prostheses are even better than simply leaving a stump as-is, with no surgical alterations beyond the initial healing period.’ She crossed her legs at her ankles and slightly straightened up, looking him in the eyes. ‘If I had to recommend you take any medical decision in this, I would recommend this. Take the surgery. It will help you in the long term.’</p><p>And well, that was about as clear of an endorsement as anyone could ask for. It made sense too, really. He didn’t doubt that Tai'li knew what she was talking about, but it was just… difficult to think clearly about this whole situation at the moment, with everything still too fresh and too raw, in every sense of the words. Still, time was apparently of the essence, though with one option clearly being objectively superior that the rest, it thankfully wouldn’t necessarily have to be a <em>hard</em> choice.</p><p>But he just… wanted a bit more information still before he made the decision. ‘And… if I do decide on the surgery,’ he hesitantly began, ‘When would the surgery be done?’</p><p>‘As soon as possible,’ Tai'li answered promptly. ‘Likely on the very same day or the next, depending on the time you make your decision.’</p><p>‘And if I decided now?’ he probed further.</p><p>The Medic closed her eyes for a moment as she visibly ran through all the variables. ‘Then you would be scheduled… first thing in the morning by my estimates,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s too late in the day for such a surgery to seriously be considered by the shift I belong to, and the night shift doesn’t have the necessary expertise for me to trust them with this. First thing in the morning,’ she repeated, ‘Likely somewhere around nine or ten hundred hours.’</p><p>‘I…’ he hesitated, his words shortening into a stammer, ‘I— I’m sorry, I just need… a little more time? I don’t—’</p><p>‘Medic Valent, Medic Pelli,’ Vader interrupted curtly, ‘Grant us a few moments. I wish to speak to Luke alone.’</p><p>And while Luke felt some weight fall off of his shoulders as he registered Vader's attempts at giving him the space he needed, the Tai'li and Mira—as he’d been allowed to address Medic Valent—blanched at Vader's request. And even as they nodded shortly after and made to step out of the recovery ward, they kept shooting Luke worried looks which he answered with a bright smile.</p><p>Once the Medics had seen themselves out of the room and he heard the lock click into place again, Vader rumbled out a gust of static in a sigh. Making his way to the other side of the bed, Luke watched with some mild amusement as the mountain of a man pulled out the chair Tai'li had been using to a more reasonable distance for him, even as it looked to be far too small to properly fit him.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he whispered lowly once the man had taken a seat. ‘I… needed that.’</p><p>‘It is no trouble,’ Vader assured him, tilting his mask to the side. ‘You seemed to be having some difficulty ordering your thoughts.’ It wasn’t a question.</p><p>Luke sighed. ‘Yeah, I just—’ Didn’t know how to handle all of this. Didn’t know how to respond to the entire situation. Earlier that day he’d woken up and been informed that his hand had been lost in an explosion, and now, that very same day even though it was hours later, he’d discovered Vader had once called Tatooine a home as well and was already discussing options to replace said hand. It was just… all going so incredibly fast that he didn’t even know how to put it in words.</p><p>‘I think I understand,’ Vader rumbled softly, and Luke thought that maybe he didn’t need to. ‘For what it is worth, little one, you are handling it incredibly well. I am… prouder of you than I can properly say.’</p><p>And while Luke didn’t quite know what to say to that, he smiled with enough warmth at Vader that he felt the man echo the warmth back shot through with glistening threads of pride, and he knew that his message had been received. Though his smile saddened when he recalled his thoughts from earlier.</p><p>‘I feel like I’m going to fall apart at any minute though,’ he confessed quietly. ‘One moment I’m fine, the next I want to move my damn arm and I feel like crying again.’</p><p>‘Which is perfectly understandable,’ Vader retorted easily. ‘Little one, you went and are still going through an astonishingly <em>horrific</em> day. I would be more surprised and concerned if this was not affecting you in some way. You lost a limb. That is a heavy experience for anyone to bear.’</p><p>He had to know. ‘Even you?’</p><p>‘Yes,’ Vader admitted quietly as he took Luke hand in his own. A hand that Luke now knew was entirely composed of metal and yet, so very gentle and soft with him. ‘Even for me.’</p><p>Which was something he should have expected and yet, something that was as surprising as it was reassuring. He nodded silently, lips pressed into a thin line, and for the umpteenth time that day, he felt tears prick in his eyes, the world blurring more and more by the moment. He clenched his one hand in his bedsheets and tried to blink the tears away. Tried. And failed, as before he knew it, water was tracking down his face and his breathing was coming out in hitched breaths that were getting harder and harder to suppress.</p><p>A soft noise hissed out of the vocoder, understanding and a quiet comfort thick in the air as Vader brought a hand up to his face, the leather covered thumb gently wiping away one of the tears as Luke's breath hitched again. ‘Oh, little one,’ he muttered, wiping away the tear tracks on his other cheek. ‘There is no shame in your grief. Not for what you have lost.’</p><p>He nodded as best he could without shaking off Vader's hand, even as he tried to keep a lid on it all, but the next thing he knew he had surged forward and collided with hard plastisteel and surprisingly soft armor weave, strong arms coming up around him to catch him and keep him close.</p><p>The tears flowed freely now, and he couldn’t have stopped them if his life depended on it. Breath hitching on every inhale, he felt small and scared, the world for a moment far too big and far too hostile for him to see how he could go on. And he knew, he <em>knew</em> that later he would be able to see his path again. Later the whispers would soothe some of his worst fears and remind him of who he was and what he could do. Later, he would be able to face the world again and roll with the punches as they came. Later, later.</p><p>But for now, he was just a scared, injured boy, too small in a world too big. For now, he was just grateful to be kept safe and warm as he quietly cried out all his uncertainties and frustrations, all his overwhelming grief, while Vader held him close in a tight embrace, nothing but understanding and care humming through the air around them as something dark pressed up against his mind with a soothing touch and a croon of concern.</p><p>Tears soaked into the armor weave beneath him, and a hand softly carded through his hair and held him close, the soothing cycling of the respirator in his ear. He tried to match his own breathing to it, and bit by bit, breath by breath, his breathing pattern stabilized and calmed down, until he was breathing in time with the slow inhale and release of the apparatus, catharsis thick in the air.</p><p>He didn’t want to let go just yet, and burried his face into the slightly damp cloth pressed against his cheek.</p><p>‘There you are,’ Vader murmured. ‘Are you feeling any better, little one?’ he asked, still running a soothing hand through Luke's hair, something he hoped the man wouldn’t stop doing just yet.</p><p>‘A little,’ he muttered.</p><p>‘Are you ready to face the Medics again?’ came the follow up question, calm and non-expectant.</p><p>He made a negative noise and Vader hummed an affirmation back, one arm carefully squeezing him a bit closer before releasing the tension again in a promise of continued comfort for a while longer.</p><p>He allowed himself another couple of moments to sort through his thoughts, still breathing in time with the cycles of the respirator. Ultimately, he knew what he wanted from this whole ordeal. The neural-connected prosthetic would allow him to continue doing the things he loved the most with minimal difficulty according to both Tai'li and Vader, something that he wanted more than anything.</p><p>He was just scared. Scared of it all and going back into unconsciousness, knowing that once he woke up his body would be different again. Scared that there would be complications and even more of him would disappear into thin air.</p><p>He couldn’t let that interfere forever though.</p><p>If he was honest with himself, he knew that he would likely never be entirely prepared to face it all in any decent timeframe, let alone the timeframe Tai'li had given him for the ideal window of opportunity for the surgery. He would just have to accept that he was just… going to have to leap before he looked, and trust that the others would spare him the fall.</p><p>He could do that. Right?</p><p>Only one way to find out.</p><p>‘Okay,’ he muttered into Vader's mantle, drawing back and wiping at the tacky tear tracks on his cheeks, Vader relaxing his grip as he pulled away. ‘Okay,’ he repeated, ‘I think— I think I'll be ready in a moment. I’ve— I’ve made my decision.’</p><p>‘A brave choice,’ Vader said with a dip of his head. ‘When you are ready then.’</p><p>Luke nodded and breathed in deeply a couple of time. In and out. In and out. He could do this. He may not be ready, but he could do this. <em>Mind be still, and Heart be strong.</em></p><p>‘Alright,’ he said, wiping away the last of the tears and smiling at Vader, ‘Call them in, and let’s get this show on the road.’</p><p>Vader rumbled out a laugh and nodded once in agreement. He stood up and made a sharp gesture towards the door, and as something shivered through the air, Luke heard the lock click and the doors slide open with a hiss. He giggled behind a hand as he heard the startled noises come from outside the door, and felt a pulse of amusement at his side from Vader as well.</p><p>‘You can come in,’ he called towards the door, stifling another laugh when he heard footsteps reluctantly shuffle in.</p><p>Tai'li and Mira warily poked their heads around the corner and Luke beamed brightly at them, feeling lighter than he had in a while. He knew he probably looked like a mess and that there was no way his face had recovered from his crying bout just moments earlier, but he hardly cared when he felt a lot better than just a few minutes ago. ‘Thanks for the time,’ he told them with a smile, ‘I… feel a lot better now.’</p><p>‘Course, kid,’ Mira told him. ‘Anything else you need?’</p><p>‘No, I’m good now, Mira,’ he told her easily. ‘And… I made a decision.’ He turned to Tai'li. ‘I’m going through with the operation. As— as soon as possible.’</p><p>Tai'li raised an eyebrow but nodded swiftly. ‘Are you ready then, Luke?’</p><p>‘No,’ he told her honestly. <em>Mind be still, and Heart be strong</em>. ‘But I’m doing this anyway. If we wait for me to be ready, it might be months yet, and we don’t have that kind of time.’</p><p>If she had any questions over that statement, she didn’t voice them, and instead began tapping away at her datapad with a nod. ‘I’ll start making the arrangements then. The surgery will take place at nine-hundred and thirty-five hours, if we’re all in agreement?’</p><p>‘No objections  from me,’ Mira said easily, winking at Luke with a conspiratorial grin and ignoring the flat look from Tai'li that made Luke snort.</p><p>‘And none from me either,’ he agreed, and he thought that would be the end of it, but Vader chose that exact moment to speak up.</p><p>‘One more thing, Medic Pelli,’ he rumbled lowly. ‘If the surgery is to take place, will I be required to attend to keep Luke in a state of sedation, or has your colleague finally worked out how to not fail at his <em>one</em> <em>task?’</em></p><p>Tai'li and Mira grimaced, but Tai'li resolutely carried on. ‘Seeing as Luke's physiology is far more familiar this time than our first emergency procedure, we’ll be able to adjust the anesthetic doses to his heighted metabolism accordingly. Your presence won’t be needed in the operating theater this time, Lord Vader,’ she answered with a respectful dip of her head.</p><p>Heightened metabolism? ‘Hold on,’ he said, ‘What do you mean, with “heightened metabolism?”’ He then turned to Vader before any answers could be given. ‘And what do <em>you</em> mean with “keeping me in a state of sedation?”’</p><p>‘Just that, Luke,’ Tai'li answered as she tapped away at her datapad. ‘During your first procedure, you displayed an unusual response to the anesthetics, with your body metabolizing them far quicker than is normal in any range of human physiology. We were quite baffled when you ate your way through an astonishing amount of the anesthetics before we were able to even get you into a bacta tank. Naturally, we were more than a bit surprised when later on we found you still unconscious, but with only trace amounts of the drugs left in your system.’ She looked pensively at whatever was on her screen and shook her head. ‘According to Lord Vader,’ she continued with a wary glance in the man’s direction, ‘He was the one to keep you sedate from there on out, but as for how—’</p><p><em>‘The Force,</em> Medic Pelli,’ Vader responded shortly, the irritation in his tone telling Luke that he’d repeated that answer more times than he’d wanted to already. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’</p><p>She visibly stilled, but nodded nonetheless. ‘As you say, Lord Vader.’ She shook off her stillness quickly enough and continued. ‘Anyway, with Lord Vader's help, we were able to complete your procedures without you waking up. This time, however, we should be able to rely fully on anesthetics since we have a much better picture of how you react to them.’</p><p>Vader growled, and his irritation flared through the air, dancing in time with a deep, penetrating fear. ‘“Should” is not an adequate answer as to whether or not you can keep a patient from waking up in the middle of a <em>surgery,</em> Medic Pelli,’ he ground out, and Luke could hear the desperation underneath the growling of the vocoder. ‘Can you, or can you not, manage with without my aid?’</p><p>Tai'li's nervousness surged out around her as soon as Vader began to speak, and it seemed that was the straw that broke the bantha’s back, as her composure finally began to show its cracks. ‘My Lord, I— this really isn’t my field—’</p><p>‘Vader,’ Luke interrupted the stammering Medic calmly, drawing the irritated and fretting man’s attention onto himself. Once the red lenses were looking at him, he gave the man a significant look and raised an eyebrow. ‘She is the best in her field and knows what she’s doing. I trust her.’ He echoed back at the man, and grinned when a flash of embarrassment shot through the air. ‘Please don’t bite her head off just because she doesn’t have immediate answers,’ he continued, smiling warmly at the man who was now radiating quiet blips of self-consciousness, ‘She’s doing her best.’</p><p>Something shrunk and flattened in embarrassment around Vader as the chastisement hit home, like a loth-cat smoothing down its hackles as it realized it was making an awful lot of fuss over something minor, and Luke was gratified to see the man incline his head minutely in a nod, lapsing back into silence as he backed off of the Medic. Luke would’ve laughed at the image of Vader hissing and spitting like a loth-cat if it weren’t so very close to the man’s actual behavior whenever he got worked up into a fretting fit. Instead he nodded in gratitude with a gentle smile and turned back to Tai'li. ‘Please, continue.’</p><p>Tai'li, for her part, was staring gobsmacked at the two of them, her eyes jumping between the them like she was watching an especially lively sparring match. Which would’ve been funny, if it weren’t for the fact that when he glanced at Mira, she was in the exact same state. Which… was slightly concerning, and when the moment dragged on a bit too long for comfort, he hesitantly tried again. ‘Uh… Tai'li, Medic Pelli?’</p><p>That seemed to snap her out of it, as she shook her head and turned back to him. ‘Right, I— right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘As for the anesthetic conundrum; Ruthgar, who will be your anesthesiologist for this operation, has been analyzing the data we gathered from your first encounter with our anesthetics to come up with the ideal custom cocktail needed to keep you safely sedate. Seeing as this operation is… relatively more routine and will proceed much quicker, there is little risk involved, and you can be assured we’ll think quick on our feet if any situation does come up. Are those all your questions, Luke?’</p><p>Well, that was reassuring. ‘Yes, they were,’ he agreed absentmindedly as he remembered something. Vague flashes of a dream he had thought nothing of when he woke up, but looking back…</p><p>‘Vader?’ he asked softly before he could think any better of it. ‘When I was out of it, asleep, I… thought I saw or… sensed some kind of darkness all around me. Rumbling. Keeping me safe.’ He chewed his lip as the images that weren’t quite images so much as sensations and impressions came rolling back in. ‘That darkness, was that you?’</p><p>Vader hummed out a thoughtful sound of static, and tilted his head to the side. ‘Most likely. You neared waking more than once, and your consciousness would have been able to pick up what was happening for as far as you could understand. There is a good chance that you sensed my presence around your mind while I kept you sedate and visualized it as best you could.’</p><p>‘Huh,’ he said as he processed that statement. So that… thing, that entire enormous thing so big it seemed to make up the whole world… was Vader? Or what his mind could make of Vader? ‘That’s… interesting,’ was all he could think to say. It hadn’t even been human in the slightest, more like… a haze. Or simply the backdrop of the world he was present in.</p><p>‘Quite,’ Vader agreed. ‘It is rare that a baseline sensitive manages to perceive the Force.’ He tilted his head as a ping of curiosity tapped against Luke's mind with a light inquisitiveness. ‘None the less, you were able to. It is quite extraordinary.’</p><p>Luke flushed to the roots of his hair, the two Medics present hiding their smiles and laughter as he felt himself turn as red as a hot iron. When he opened his mouth to protest, he was swiftly cut off by Vader's attention snapping over to the door, and with a sharp gesture, it hissed open. ‘In,’ he commanded in a tone that brokered no nonsense.</p><p>Distracted from his own mortification, Luke could begin to sense a kind of desperate determination in the person about to approach. A heavy tread round the corner and suddenly a Trooper in proper SUTA armor was striding straight for them, pausing only when they caught sight of the group they were intruding on. Vader, however, had no such reservations.</p><p>‘State your reason for interrupting this meeting, Trooper,’ he rumbled lowly, irritation flaring back up into an agitated state, though Luke frowned as he found a kind of… anticipation leaking through it. Anticipation, anger, and something he would almost describe as… bloodlust? What in the Name of the Suns…?</p><p>Unaware of Luke's inner turmoil, the Trooper clacked his heels together as he saluted. ‘My Lord, there is a new development in the investigation. One of the saboteurs has been found and is currently being prepared for interrogation. It has already become known that he didn’t act alone and it was assumed that you would want to be informed of such a development.’</p><p>Wait, <em>hold up</em>—</p><p>
  <em>Saboteurs!?</em>
</p><p>The room went dead silent and Luke winced as he realized he’d said that out loud. The Trooper faltered in his salute, and Luke could fully understand why when he felt Vader's ire slowly begin to awaken like a krayt roused from it slumber. Which meant it was probably time for him to distract the man before he could gain any steam and find some answers to boot. ‘What saboteurs?’ he asked again, this time deliberately turning to Vader and addressing the man directly.</p><p>Vader froze like a statue for a moment, and then Luke saw him visibly reach a conclusion, the air around them humming with determination even as his anger simmered in the background alongside a whole slew of other emotions. ‘All of you. Out,’ he ordered in a clipped voice that was dark, even for his doing. ‘<em>Now</em>.’</p><p>The Medics and Trooper asked no further questions and immediately fled out of the room, not even bothering to do so in any kind of orderly fashion. When the Trooper had stumbled out last and the door had once more clicked into the lock behind them, Vader began to pace.</p><p>Mantle flaring and billowing behind him as he paced the length of the ward, Luke watched in concern as Vader wound himself up higher and higher, a lethal kind of rage boiling under the man’s surface demeanor. Well too fucking bad. Luke needed answers and he needed them <em>now,</em> damnit. If there was a saboteur aboard, it was his Corps that would have to deal with the fallout.</p><p>‘Saboteur?’ he asked again, pointedly at his mentor still pacing back and forth with a heavy tread. ‘What did the Trooper mean by <em>saboteur?’</em></p><p>Vader froze mid-step and Luke could feel a whole hurricane of apprehension and reluctance roar to life around the man until, eventually, it settled down into dread and resignation. Vader sighed, and headed back over to the chair at Luke's bedside, now haphazardly shoved aside in the haste of the others to get out of the room as Vader had ordered.</p><p>He pulled the seat up back into its original place and sunk down in it with a heavy grace, Luke and Vader once more eye-to-eye. Something he made full use of by staring the man down until he divulged something— anything. <em>‘What saboteur?’</em> he repeated one final time.</p><p>Vader shifted in place and looked away in such a manner that Luke thought that for one moment, he might still not get his answer when—</p><p>‘The… saboteur who… caused the explosion in your lab, little one,’ Vader admitted quietly, heavily, and Luke's world ground to a halt for the umpteenth time that day.</p><p>‘What?’ he asked, his voice barely more than a whispered breath.</p><p>‘When the explosion happened,’ Vader began to explain with trepidation thick in the air, ‘I ordered an investigation to take place, placing my trust in Captain Piett to do the task adequately enough while you and I received medical attention. I… expected the Captain to find traces of wear and tear, but… that is not what he found,’ Vader finished wearily, voice thick with static as sighed a second time and—</p><p>Luke could already here the words he both dread and <em>wanted</em> to hear.</p><p>‘He instead found something different.’</p><p>Suns and sand.</p><p>‘The explosion was not an accident, little one. It was sabotage.’</p><p>Suns and <em>fucking</em> sand.</p><p><em>Someone had done this to him. Suns’ fucking </em>Fire<em>.</em></p><p>He stared blankly at the bedsheets underneath him, crinkling as he clenched his one remaining hand in a fist, that thought running through him on a loop as it slowly began to sink into his mind and, like acid, bit into it.</p><p>Someone had <em>done</em> this to him. Someone had sabotaged the printer, and now that he had that information, it was little wonder as to why he could recall feeling so incredibly uneasy before he’d switched it on. Someone had fucking <em>sabotaged</em> it, <em>knowing</em> what would happen to him.</p><p>Someone aboard had done this to him knowing full well the consequences, which meant that somewhere aboard he now had an Enemy.</p><p>And there was one Law of the Desert both Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had always been in agreement on that he got taught: You didn’t let your Enemies <em>live.</em></p><p>Not unless you wanted to allow them a chance to target you later on.</p><p>Rivals? Sure. They might not be pleasant, or even people you wanted around you in any way, but you could live with them and maybe even sway them eventually. Same went for people you disliked or who opposed you. Unpleasant, and maybe even a hinderance, but not a direct threat to your survival or those you had under your wings.</p><p>But Enemies? You either ended them, or were ended <em>by</em> them. And Luke had always had a knack for dealing with any Enemies he made.</p><p>Someone on this ship had just made themselves his Enemy. They would have to be dealt with just like all the others.</p><p>He gritted his teeth as he slowly released the creased-up sheets from his fist. ‘Any idea as to what their identity is?’ he ground out, his mind shifting into his runner mindset. There was an Enemy to deal with, emotions would come later. <em>Mind be still, and Heart </em><em>be strong.</em></p><p>‘None so far,’ Vader responded promptly. ‘Though apparently that could all change soon if Trooper Wick’s information is accurate.’</p><p>‘Which means you’re going to interrogate them yourself, right?’ he asked, even as he already knew the answer and was going through the information he had stored over the last half year aboard the Lady.</p><p>He knew that Vader was the Chief Interrogator aboard this ship and likely wherever he went. He also knew that information was <em>everything</em>, no matter what situation you found yourself in, but when it came to rooting out spies and saboteurs that necessity might as well be counted three times over. Interrogating whomever had been caught was simple logic. He sighed. Though usually he had found himself on the <em>other</em> side of this argument.</p><p>‘I will,’ Vader confirmed. ‘This is not something I would leave to another, but…’ he trailed off and Luke raised an eyebrow at the reluctance in his tone.</p><p>‘But?’ he probed, curious as to what could have the man hesitating like this.</p><p>‘…But it would mean leaving your side for a while,’ Vader continued, reluctance clear. ‘Possibly even until after the operation has already gone through under extreme circumstances.’</p><p>Luke stared for a moment, before chuckles began to make their way out of his mouth. ‘Is that all?’ he asked while stifling his laughter. Oh <em>Vader.</em> ‘I can survive for a couple of moments without you, you know?’ he teased, smiling at the man.</p><p>‘The fact that you are currently in the recovery ward speaks counter to that assessment,’ Vader retorted drily. ‘In fact,’ he continued, and Luke could swear those lenses were <em>gleaming</em> with something mischievous, ‘I would dare say it serves as substantial evidence to support my own theory that you are best not left unsupervised for more than five minutes lest you go and find trouble, little one.’</p><p>Luke squawked out an indignant sound and immediately grabbed the pillow from behind his back to whack the man with. A move that was handily warded off with a simple block, the pillow bouncing harmlessly off of the durasteel arm that wasn’t even so much as jostled by the impact. Vader's shoulders shook as the vocoder rumbled out a deep, staticky laugh which did nothing to quell Luke's indignation. ‘I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!’ he asserted as he jabbed a pointer finger at the man.</p><p>‘As you say, little one,’ Vader managed to work out through his laughter. ‘As you say.’</p><p>‘I do say,’ he sniffed out indignantly. ‘I certainly am capable of being left unsupervised for at least the length of time it would take you to interrogate whomever they’ve managed to catch.’</p><p>The mood in the room abruptly dropped like a brick stone and Vader's mirth bled out of the air like ink washed with water. ‘As much as I wish to believe you, Luke,’ he muttered, ‘There is still the simple fact that trouble could find <em>you.’</em> He sighed a deep gust of static. ‘And I would never forgive myself if you were harmed because I was not there when someone made another attempt on your life.’</p><p>Oh. So that was the issue. ‘Well,’ Luke said slowly, mentally running through all the options that could appease a fussing Vader. ‘You could always ask Cody and Appo and Kix and the rest if they’d be willing to stand guard for a few hours if you need someone here?’ he tried. ‘They did a pretty good job of guarding me the last time.’ And while he normally would be offended by the insinuation that he couldn’t take on anyone looking for trouble himself, fact remained that he was down one arm and one knife, so he wasn’t too keen on his odds against anyone seriously trying to kill him.</p><p>Vader's mask shot up from where it was looking off to the side and Luke could swear that the man was blinking at him in bewilderment. ‘Are you… suggesting the use of bodyguards yourself? Luke, are you feeling well?’</p><p>Luke huffed out a small laugh and shook his head. ‘Look, I’m still not particularly fond of the idea of people having to just sit around and babysit me all day, but even I can see that it’s a good idea to have some backup right about now. I don’t yet know how to fight like this, I’m unarmed—in more than one way—and frankly speaking, I’m about as far from fighting fit as a kitten right now,’ he summed up as he counted up his points on his fingers, analyzing the situation as objectively as he could. ‘I know I’m… stubborn about a lot of things,’ he admitted honestly and with a sheepish smile, ‘but right now someone just tried to kill me, and I think both you and I would feel better if someone was watching my back.’</p><p>And apparently the fact that he could change his opinion on things depending on the situation was something Vader hadn’t expected from him, seeing as the man just stared in silence at him for a moment long enough that it was almost insulting.</p><p>‘I do have <em>some</em> perspective on the situation, you know,’ he added on, feeling a bit crabby at the stunned silence he was being treated to. Damnit, he hadn’t kept himself alive as a runner by just blindly believing he could handle anything thrown his way, on his own, without any help!</p><p>Vader seemed to snap out of his stupor and shook his head. ‘I am certain that you do, little one. I was… simply surprised by the maturity of your decision.’</p><p>Suppressing the urge to try and cross his arms so he wouldn’t send himself into another crying fit, Luke looked off to the side. ‘Yeah, well,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘As a runner you need to know where your limits are. Saying I would be able to win a fight right now would be kinda counter to that, don’t you think? And I don’t exactly think I can pull of an escape properly like this either.’</p><p>‘Know your limits indeed,’ Vader muttered, sounding both far away and a little awed. Whatever had kept the man spellbound wore off with a snap though, and Luke felt his full attention return to him. ‘Very well then,’ he agreed, ‘I will call upon your former security detail and see if they are willing to reprise their role for a little while, and I… apologize for underestimating you, little one,’ he added, his tone a touch contrite.</p><p>Luke shrugged his shoulders as he smiled at the man. ‘Apology accepted, I’m good at getting underestimated anyway. It’s useful.’</p><p>Vader inclined his head towards Luke in agreement while accessing his own comm. With a few taps and short orders, the request for guards was placed and even as Luke was somewhat reluctant still to have all these people just… standing around, guarding him, he also felt some excitement well up at getting to see all of them again.</p><p>‘There,’ Vader said as he tapped off the comm. ‘It is done. We will know soon enough who will be making an appearance.’ He shifted in his chair and Luke tilted his head in curiosity as he felt Vader's own curiosity patter against him like rain on his skin, curiosity and… something more. Something that whispered of sand and sun as the world took on a muffled quality again, only Vader's voice standing out sharply. ‘You were a runner?’ was the question eventually asked.</p><p>Ah. Right. He had admitted to that. ‘Yeah,’ he said with a small smile. ‘I was. Right up until you picked me up from Tatooine. My last run was actually only a week before that.’ Six more Siblings ferried to safety. Six more souls Freed. It had been a good run.</p><p>Interest sparked all around them like stars, and Vader shifted forward in his chair. ‘I would not have guessed it,’ he admitted quietly, and then, a huff of static. ‘Though I suppose that is rather the point.’</p><p>Luke laughed as he nodded. ‘Pretty much, yeah. I was the main Flight runner for the Jundland Wastes and sometimes surrounding areas. If people had a difficult Flight or a mission to run, they came to me.’ He scratched his neck sheepishly as he recalled some of the rumors spread about him through the Paths. ‘Though it was often just luck and reflexes that saved the day in the end,’ he admitted.</p><p>‘A reputation like that is not garnered easily, little one. Especially not when it concerns a true Flight runner instead of a runner who prefers to run the Paths alone,’ Vader countered, and it was in that moment that Luke could truly see the Child the man must once have been. ‘If you were the main Flight runner in the area, you must have had quite a high success rate.’ And Luke could hear the question hiding in that statement. What <em>was</em> his success rate?</p><p>‘Nine,’ he answered softly, the memories rolling back to the forefront of his mind in a thick, steady flow. ‘In all my Flights, I lost nine Siblings total.’</p><p>Kirkin Clearsky, Malkesh Redrider, Urtok Cliffstrider, Sy’a’mala Stargazer, Rirkesh Mooncatcher, Wini Nightwatcher, Shika Thunderroar, Lukkin Shadedancer, Hiramak Sunriser. He remembered them all. Every last one that didn’t make it.</p><p>‘Nine…’ Vader breathed out. ‘Out of how many Flights?’</p><p>Luke closed his eyes as he tried to count them all. He’d been running since he was fourteen, and had nearly always made room for two Flights a month, either his own, or those he had been brought in for by others. More if he could fit them. All of that added up to…</p><p>‘Over… over a hundred, I think,’ he said quietly, the number not feeling quite real to him even as he knew that the math checked out. A hundred, and a couple more. Howling Storm…</p><p>‘Then it seems,’ Vader murmured quietly, ‘That I brought a local hero aboard that day.’</p><p>Luke flushed until he thought his cheeks had to be visibly steaming from all the heat. He was no hero. Just a runner. Perhaps a good one, but still just a runner. Running Flights was his <em>job.</em> Which is what he told Vader. ‘It was just my job,’ he muttered as he plucked at the bedsheets. ‘I think I was pretty good at it, but I was still just a runner doing a job.’</p><p>‘A job that voluntarily means saving Siblings, little one,’ Vader reminded him gently. ‘And putting your own life at risk to do so. If that is not the definition of heroic, I am afraid I know nothing else that would fit the description.’</p><p>You could probably bake an egg on his face at this point and he shrugged his shoulders as he studiously kept his gaze locked on the bedsheets, plucking at the fabric. ‘I guess so,’ he mumbled.</p><p>A gloved hand reached out for him and gently tilted his chin up until he was looking at Vader again, the hand falling away and covering his fidgeting hand to softly brush a thumb over the back of them. ‘I know so,’ he said with a certainty that left Luke feeling both embarrassed and proud at being seen like that, warmth bubbling up inside his chest.</p><p>He nodded silently and could’ve perhaps even scraped up the courage to say something again, but he was saved from having to attempt to do so when Vader's comm chimed. Leaving Luke's hands to their fidgeting as he answered the comm message, Luke felt the air trill with both relief and reluctance.</p><p>‘It seems,’ he rumbled lowly, ‘That your security detail is more than willing to stand guard over you once more. It will take some time for all to arrive from where they are stationed on the lady, but until then Kix has proven himself willing to take the task upon himself of guarding the door and vetting any potential visitors. He is outside the door at the moment.’</p><p>‘Then…’ Luke said hesitantly, ‘I guess this is goodbye for now?’</p><p>‘For now,’ Vader agreed just as reluctantly. ‘However, you have my word on it that I will return as soon as is possible, little one.’</p><p>Luke laughed a quiet laugh. ‘Not too soon, I hope. Don’t cut any corners just because you think I might be lonely,’ he teased, smiling fondly at the man.</p><p>Vader drew his shoulders back and angled his head high, the very picture of someone who had just had their pride insulted. ‘I will have you know that I am diligent in my tasks regardless of what is at stake,’ he huffed out, attempting for stern but the amusement in the air betraying his mock-indignation, Luke only smiling wider at his attempt until Vader caved with his own rumbled of static as he rose out of the chair with lithe grace. ‘But very well, I will heed your words, little star.’</p><p>‘Good,’ Luke retorted, his demeanor sobering up rapidly. ‘I want answers out of this all,’ he stated lowly. ‘Answers as to why. And I want them to answer <em>for</em> this as well.’</p><p>‘That, little one,’ the man said as he inclined his head deeply, ‘Can be arranged.’</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he offered, and then, with a smile, ‘And stay safe.’</p><p>Vader stilled, but nodded. ‘I will.’ And with that, he strode over towards the door and with a click and hiss, Vader's presence began to fade away as he made his way to the brig to get answers for them both.</p><p>Luke sighed, and placed his pillow behind him again, leaning back into it, energy exhausted. Medic Valent and Medic Pelli entered the room again to talk to him a bit more, a fully suited Kix standing guard over him the entire time, but there was little left to be discussed about the surgery, and he didn’t have much energy to continue the banter. With a smile and a goodbye, the Medics left to perform their own duties, Kix once more taking up guard outside the door until his <em>vod’e</em> arrived to help him out.</p><p>Left alone in the recovery ward for the first time since he woke up, and for perhaps the first time since he was admitted to it, Luke sank back into the bed and closed his eyes, attempting to make sense of all the impressions of the last few hours.</p><p>A lost hand, a former Child, a surgery… it was all a lot to keep track of. And according to Vader, it had all been in the same day. Even sleeping away several hours, he had apparently not slept enough to have the clock tick over into the next day which was… a lot.</p><p>He sighed. At this point, he didn’t even want to think about his hand, unwilling to have another breakdown, this time with no one there to catch him when his emotions spilled over and he began to fall into despair. So instead, he focused on the wealth of information he had learned about Vader.</p><p>The man had been a Child.</p><p>That thought still ran around his head in a loop, even as it had faded to the background while other things took its place. Now though, now there was nothing stopping him from examining all that he had managed to get out of them man under a closer look.</p><p>He had been a Child, even if he now chose to invoke his Right to Secrecy.</p><p>He had been a Child, and all that Luke had thought impossible—about the plant, about his secrets, about Vader's secrets—had come true. Vader had declared Luke his Home, and when Luke had reciprocated, the man had known and understood the impact of those words like the bone deep truth they were for Luke, his mind filled with song and moonlight and the warm winds of rainy season.</p><p>They were each other’s Home. And he had never expected to be able to say that.</p><p>He still didn’t know where they stood beyond that, and they would likely have to have a talk sometime soon on what those words had meant for the both of them, but they were Home. They would have the time to figure it out.</p><p>Just like Luke would have the time to figure out what was going on with Vader.</p><p>Frowning, he tried to recall the feelings he had sensed when Vader had spoken of his past. There had been an old, deeply etched grief and sadness as he spoke of his Family, now passed on to rest among the Moons. His Mother, who hadn’t been able to take her Flight alongside her Son. He hoped that she had at least found her Flight at a later time, or taken solace in the fact that her Son had ran the paths and found his Freedom at the end of it.</p><p>Or so he said.</p><p>For all that Vader said that he was Free, he still spoke of a Master who had authority over him, and even as he no longer claimed the Name of Child, he still <em>knew</em> what a Master was. And every time he had said he was Free, there had been that malice in the air again, grating against the back of his mind like sandpaper. That malice that he remembered from his time at the palace, and that he had hoped he’d left there too. But he hadn’t. And every time Vader said he was Free, it was there, looming. Waiting. Hungry. And Vader's statements rung with the hollowness of someone who only barely believed their own lies.</p><p>They rung with the hollowness of a desolate slave.</p><p>Luke shifted against the plush pillow as he thought through his options there. His mentor and Home needed someone to help him truly run the Flightpaths to their full length and Freedom this time, that much was clear, but there was nothing he could do unless Vader himself was ready to recognize that. A runner couldn’t take an unwilling slave to Freedom, after all, there had to be cooperation there and a shared goal. And as much as he wished that it wasn’t so, he was more than familiar with the mindsets that some slaves could sink into that prevented them from ever seeking Freedom to begin with.</p><p><em>Chainblind</em>, they called the Siblings suffering from it. When a slave had either been tricked into believing they were Free, or had simply been denied Freedom for so long that they fooled themselves into believing that they no longer cared whether they were Free or not, even believing that they didn’t deserve it.</p><p>More than any chip or collar, chainblindness was the true bane of any Flight and runner. A mindset so insidious and corrupt that it robbed Siblings of their most precious gift of the Desert; a Free Mind. It bound them, shackled them, and dragged them down, into the deepest pits of despair and denial.</p><p>And it killed them. Either because of sickness, old age, or their Master finally showing their full potential for cruelty, chainblindness always, <em>always</em> killed its victims in the end unless overcome, having never tasted Freedom again. </p><p>And it was a mindset he had little idea as how to change other than to consistently be there for his mentor and be ready when the man finally found his own desire for Freedom once more. He had no idea how he would run a Flight for Darth Vader, second in command of the empire and apparently chainblind, but he’d damn well find a way. He’d been a runner not so long ago, and for his Home? For his Home he’d be so again, no question about it.</p><p>He made a frustrated sound and plonked his head back against the pillow. He hated this aspect of the Flights whenever it reared its ugly head, but there was little other choice than to go through with it at the pace Vader set. Any attempts to speed things up would likely just end up alienating the man.</p><p>Opening his eyes and glaring at the tiled nondescript metal ceiling above him, he thought that at least the time spent waiting for Vader to find himself ready for a Flight would give Luke the time necessary to start thinking up plans to pry Vader out of the emperor’s boney grasp. He knew he hadn’t liked the Master then, and he certainly didn’t like him now. He wished he could declare the man an Enemy, but fact of the matter was that Luke wasn’t even in the same league as the man, let alone on the emperor’s radar as a threat. To presume that he would be able to uphold the oldest Law of the Desert by declaring the man an Enemy would be the height of arrogance when so many had likely failed before him.</p><p>That might change if— <em>when</em> Luke could manage to get Vader out from under his heel, but he knew the mentality of the Masters. Even when actively fighting them, they rarely considered you more than an annoyance right up until you killed them. Which worked fine for Luke, the less the emperor suspected, the better, and he <em>was</em> going to Free his mentor and Home, so it hardly mattered either way.</p><p>Still, he wished he could declare the emperor an Enemy. It would’ve been one hell of a thing to tell Biggs once they met up again if nothing else.</p><p>Well, with a bit of luck, he would be able to say he had ran Vader's Flight to Freedom, which was just as good, if not even better. If only he could figure out how to do it…</p><p>Idly dreaming up plans to get the emperor off their trail once they were ready to break Free, each plan more fantastical and unrealistic than the last, Luke almost missed the clanking in the vents until the sound was right upon him.</p><p>Cracking one eye open at the rattling and thumping that sounded like it was coming from a vent besides and a little ways below him, Luke frowned as he tried to think of what it could be. It wasn’t a shuffling or scraping sound, so he doubted it was anything or anyone large rattling around in the vents, but the whirring and thumping was certainly odd.</p><p>The closer it came, the more he could here another tone underneath the rattling and whirring, and with the next particularly loud thump, he could finally make out the bleeping and twittering underneath the noise. Binary? Were there droids in the vents?</p><p>Opening both his eyes now and propping himself up to see where the sound came from properly, Luke was just in time to heard an almighty clatter and alarmed shriek of binary as something rapidly tumbled down a long stretch—of what he presumed was a ventilations shaft—that ended with a hard <em>bang</em> against the grating next to his bed and some groggy bleeps that were beginning to sound all too familiar.</p><p>When a high-pitched whirring came to life inside the grate that sounded all too much like the high-powered screwdriver-drill combo he liked to fit his mods with, he knew it for certain. By the time the grating clattered to the floor and a triumphant mouse droid with a distinctive white paintjob came spinning out of the vent in a little victory lap, he was already grinning and giggling at the spectacle.</p><p><em>‘Mission status: success,’</em> she bleeped. <em>‘Mission status: success!’</em></p><p>He stifled his laughter as the little droid spun around in gleeful circles, triumphantly beeping the whole way. ‘Hey, Emmy,’ he greeted fondly. ‘How did you find your way here?’</p><p><em>‘Route mapping: ventilation shafts,’</em> she beeped back smugly. <em>‘Search and Locate Protocol: Hd. Eng. Lars. File merger status: complete.’</em></p><p>Shaking his head at the little droid’s antics, he couldn’t suppress a chuckle as Emmy happily rolled back and forth, occasionally adding a little spin to her route. ‘Fair enough,’ he agreed. ‘But that doesn’t explain how you were able to get into the vents in the first place. Who helped you out?’ he asked, curiosity welling up in him.</p><p><em>‘ID code: Vc. Eng. 3<sup>rd</sup> rank Gearbox,’</em> she told him while rolling back and forth, before apparently deciding that spinning donuts would express her glee better. <em>‘Assessment: amused but helpful.’</em></p><p>Of course it was Gearbox. The old clone mechanic had a love for the little droids that was almost unique amongst the <em>vod’e.</em> An old war trauma, Vader had once told him, nothing that was meant personal to the droids themselves or Luke. ‘Well, then,’ he said with a grin as Emmy kept spinning donuts on the floor, ‘Don’t forget to thank him next time you see him, okay?’</p><p>Emmy stopped her gleeful spinning for a moment to bleep her affirmative. <em>‘Order registered and noted.’</em></p><p>He let his hand hang over the side of the bed and Emmy did a little wiggle-shake before bumping into it at full force and grinned as she wiggled under his hand, letting it rest atop her chassis. ‘Atta girl,’ he praised fondly. ‘So, what did you come here for that was important enough to enlist Gearbox’s help?’</p><p>She trilled before stilling under his hand. <em>‘Statement: tracker IFF-7093 attached to ID code: Hd. Eng. Lars has gone unresponsive. General Order #313: Hd. Eng. Lars must have either a tracker or a communications unit at all times. Assessment: deliver backup tracker and communications unit. Mission status: pending,’ </em>she bleeped out in rapid-fire binary.</p><p>Right, his tracker and comm must’ve gotten destroyed in the— in the explosion. He absentmindedly patted Emmy's chassis while thinking on that. ‘Good thinking, Emmy,’ he praised the little mouse droid, until— ‘Wait,’ he said, his eyes snapping over to the nonsensically chirping droid. ‘How <em>did</em> you find me if my tracker got destroyed?’</p><p>Emmy beeped smugly and rolled back and forth as far as she could without shaking off Luke's hand. <em>‘Statement: ID code: MD-03 witnessed Hd. Eng. Lars being transported and admitted to maintenance. Information was uploaded to the General Maintenance Network. A query was issued as to a further status update, to which MD-03 could not comply. Unit EM-33 was pinged to explore instead. I complied.’</em></p><p>MD-03, one of the med droids and as sweet a droid as Luke had ever met. And apparently the GMN was up to date on his situation too if MD-03 had reported his own status. And then they had decided to send Emmy to him to check up on him when organic surgeons had taken over his care. He smiled warmly at the little droid. ‘Well, you can tell them all that I’m fine now, Emmy—’ He cut himself off when Emmy abruptly blared out a sound much like mist horn.</p><p><em>‘False data input!’ </em>she blared, rolling out from under his hand only to turn around and repeatedly bump into it. <em>‘False data input! Statement: my sensors indicate missing components to Hd. Eng. Lars. Statement: Hd. Eng. Lars is currently in the organics’ maintenance shop. Assessment: Hd. Eng. Lars is not operational!’</em> she bleeped while still repeatedly attempting to ram his hand, and Luke blinked owlishly at the little droid who, for all intents and purposes, was <em>scolding</em> him.</p><p>He hastily retracted his hand up to the bed before Emmy could attempt to ram it one last time, and the mouse droid overshot her speed enough to disappear under his bed with a yowl and a thunk that shook his bedframe. Irritated twittering sounded out from under his bed, and when she came back rolling out, Luke noted another small dent had been added to her chassis.</p><p>He sighed as he shook his head at Emmy’s antics. ‘You gotta be more careful than that, Emmy,’ he chided gently. ‘I won’t be able to fix you if you manage to damage yourself until I’m cleared for work again, or at the very least until my, uh… maintenance has been finished.’</p><p>If droids could glare, he swore Emmy was giving it her best attempt at the moment. <em>‘Statement,’</em> she bleeped flatly, <em>‘Observed hypocrisy.’ </em>Well now.</p><p>He sighed and flopped down on his bed, pillowing his head on his arm as he looked at the irritable little droid. ‘I may not be operational at the moment,’ he admitted, ‘But I <em>am</em> fine. I’m… scheduled for maintenance the next morning, and they’ll be constructing replacement components for me soon. Really, Emmy,’ he insisted as she beeped doubtfully at him, ‘I <em>am</em> fine, or— as fine as I can be at the moment, anyway. You can tell the GMN that.’</p><p><em>‘Order status: pending,’</em> she bleeped testily. <em>‘Query: Has permanent damage been acquired?’</em></p><p>Oof. He tilted his head from side to side before deciding to be rather safe than sorry. ‘Define “permanent damage?”’ he tried hesitantly.</p><p>Emmy blared another sound at him that he couldn’t define, apparently seeing right through his transparent attempt at avoiding the question. <em>‘Statement: damage that cannot be repaired or negated in any manner and has permanent adverse side-effects,’</em> she responded tersely.</p><p>Humming softly into his arm, Luke turned those words over in his mind. Truth was, with those definitions, he didn’t know if his hand… qualified. The replacement prosthetic wouldn’t ever be as good as his real hand, true, but… it would help immeasurably. He sighed. ‘I don’t know, Emmy,’ he answered truthfully, and then, to forestall another blare, he continued quickly, ‘They will give me new components, very good ones at that too, but… they won’t be organic,’ he told her quietly. ‘So… the damage can, and will, be repaired and negated as best it can, but the repairs have to be done in an entirely different medium than the chassis original material.’</p><p>That seemed to give Emmy food for thought, and she whirred quietly while processing Luke's statement. At last, she seemed to have gained some kind of grip on the situation, and she chirped softly. <em>‘Query: are proper components for Hd. Eng. Lars no longer manufactured by the producer?’</em></p><p>He huffed out a soft laugh. ‘No. No, they’re not, Emmy.’</p><p>
  <em>‘Query</em>
  <em>: are there no defective models from which components could be salvaged?’</em>
</p><p>‘It doesn’t work that way,’ he responded quickly, trying to get the image out of his head of Emmy trying to find a hand for him from a… defective model. He really didn’t want the Coroners of the Lady to get on his case too. ‘I was… a prototype,’ he tried to explain. ‘The only one of my series manufactured. The same goes for most organics, in fact.’</p><p>Emmy twittered out an uncomplimentary string of binary that made Luke wonder who had taught her that, and slowly rolled back over to him, shoving herself back under his hand when he dropped it down the side of his bed again. <em>‘Statement,’</em> she beeped quietly, <em>‘Organics are complicated and inefficient.’</em></p><p>He chuckled as he patted her chassis. ‘On that we can agree, Em,’ he muttered quietly. ‘On that we can agree.’</p><p>Emmy whirred softly for a bit before she sent out a little ping to draw his attention. <em>‘Update compiled for the General Maintenance Network: Hd. Eng. Lars sustained damage and is scheduled for maintenance. Original components are no longer manufactured and cannot be salvaged. Replacement components will be adequate, but substandard. Hd. Eng. Lars will be operational again once maintenance is complete.’</em></p><p>He let his hand rest on top of her chassis and grinned at her. ‘Sounds good, Emmy,’ he agreed. ‘Send it out.’</p><p><em>‘Order status: received,’ </em>she beeped back at him. <em>‘Pending. Pending. Complete! Order status: complete!’</em> she crowed while wiggling underneath his hand.</p><p>He laughed softly at her antics. ‘Good job, Em,’ he praised, proud of the little droid and how far she had come. ‘Anything else left to do?’</p><p><em>‘Mission statement: deliver tracker and communications unit to Hd. Eng. Lars,’</em> she responded promptly, the cover over her carrier rack flipping open with a click, and displaying the contents of both a new tracker and comm of his own design inside. <em>‘Mission status: pending.’</em></p><p>That elicited a bark of laughter out of him, and he rolled flat on his back while Emmy beeped smugly at him. ‘Oh, Em,’ he sighed as he chuckled. ‘Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. Update mission status to “success,” Emmy. You did your job,’ he said as he rolled back over to snag both the tracker and comm. ‘Very well, in fact.’</p><p> Emmy trilled happily at the praise and spun a few gleeful circles once he had clipped the tracker to his person once more. <em>‘Mission status: success!’</em> she chirped happily. <em>‘Mission status: success!’</em></p><p>Laughing quietly at the little droid’s antics, he began to power up the comm, running through the process of setting it up for his own communications and logging into his account. It was a bit awkward doing it all with only one hand, and there was this weird code blockage that was trying to prevent him from sending messages, but it was far from impossible, and by the time Emmy had calmed down again, the installment was complete, and he had begun sorting through his backlog of messages and reports, sinking back into his pillow as it fluffed up all around him.</p><p>Letting his comm fall flat on his covers, he grinned down at the little droid. ‘You done, Emmy?’ he teased, giggling when she blared back at him.</p><p><em>‘Celebration protocol: disengaged,’</em> she informed him primly, before going oddly quiet. <em>‘Query,’</em> she eventually said, <em>‘Are there new missions?’</em></p><p>‘Afraid not,’ he responded with an apologetic grin. ‘If you want to, you can go back to your regular routine.’</p><p><em>‘Negative,’</em> Emmy dismissed. <em>‘Daily routine has been absorbed by the General Maintenance Network for the current cycle. I have no tasks to complete.’</em></p><p>Oh. ‘Well…’ he hesitated as he wracked his brain for an answer. ‘You could… always stay here and continue to give updates to the GMN? Keep me company for a bit?’ he tried hopefully. Emmy was nice company to have when he just wanted to exist in the same space with someone else and do his own thing for a bit.</p><p>Emmy beeped and booped for a bit, but eventually twittered out a string of happy little bleeps. <em>‘Mission acquired,’</em> she agreed happily, <em>‘Mission statement: keep Hd. Eng. Lars company and send updates of his status to the General Maintenance Network. Mission status: pending.’</em> With that, she rolled forward and under his bed, bleeping contently as she settled in. When he leaned over the edge of the bed to check on her, she pointedly bonked into his forehead with a mischievous beep.</p><p>Laughing at his little friend, he plopped back down against his pillow, and continued to sort through his messages in silent company, Emmy only occasionally beeping as she made a new update or notifying him of the other GMN members checking in on his status.</p><p>When he had nearly entirely combed through his messages of the last couple of days and sent a too-many-times-redrafted message to his Aunt and Uncle, informing them of his situation, of what had transpired, and how he found a new Home, he found one from a familiar but new comm code. Opening the message, he grinned as he saw what was displayed.</p><p>
  
</p>
<ol>
  <em>Hey, Luke, Leia here.</em>

<p>
  <em>We’ve arrived safely back on Alderaan, but things have been wild after your stunt back in the Senate. Thank you for that, by the way, you have no idea how cathartic it is to see a bunch of stodgy old men work themselves up into a huff about someone else’s white outfit for once, even if it is making the empire more lethal. </em>
</p>

<p><em>How have you been? Has Lord Vader driven you mad just yet? Or one of the other Officers perhaps. I’d say that you can’t possibly be having a more hectic time of it than I am, but I don’t know. I think you might, </em>might,<em> be able to beat me there.</em></p>

<p>
  <em>Let me know,</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan</em>
</p>
</ol><p> </p><p>Staring wide-eyed at the message and resisting the urge to glance at where he was still missing one hand, Luke slowly felt an incredulous grin spread over his face as he realized the opportunity here. Sure, he had lost his hand. Sure, he’s probably acquired more trauma from that than you could shake a stick at and he wouldn’t be okay for a long time to come. But this?</p><p>He could have this.</p><p>Chewing his lip as he weighed the pros and cons of going through with his plan, he eventually decided to throw caution out the door and grant himself just this one thing. Grinning an unholy grin that he knew would have Biggs backing away slowly while making warding signs, he began to draft his response.</p><p>
  
</p>
<ol>
<em>Hey Leia!</em>

<p><em>Yeah, about all that. You’re never going to believe the week I’ve had so far…</em></p>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we are then! Luke will be going through the first steps of getting his new hand soon enough, and recovery is happening, slow though it may be. </p><p>And Vader is on his way to the traitor. Wonder how that will work out next chapter? Well, we'll see it next Sunday, won't we? Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. And Pray To Our Past On Bleeding Knees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We finally come face-to-face with the saboteur, and learn a bit more about the true shape of this conspiracy. And Piett has a very, very long day.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright! Here we are then, with the long-anticipated saboteur reveal chapter. Everyone strap in, this one is about to kick of a rollercoaster in terms of plot progression. </p><p> </p><p>  <b>As for the trigger list, it's a long one this time <i>so please be mindful:</i></b></p><ol>
<li>Threats and discussions of torture (no actual torture)</li>
<li>Graphic descriptions of institutional violence/police brutality</li>
<li>Frank discussions of one's own execution</li>
<li>Mentions of an off-screen execution</li>
<li>Blood</li>
<li>Graphic descriptions of a corpse</li>
<li>Graphic descriptions of the aftermath of a suicide (No on-screen suicide)</li>

<b>None of these tags are hyperbole. We are getting into the darker parts of this story, so please be mindful of your own mental health.</b> And as always, <i>enjoy.</i>
</ol></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say that Firmus Piett was livid as he stalked down the hallways towards the detention center would be an understatement so egregious he didn’t think anyone would be able to find the humor in it.</p><p>Thankfully, he was far from the only one positively boiling with barely-contained fury as they made their way there.</p><p>Engineer Lyvon had joined up with him once more when he passed by the vicinity of the hangars on his way from the stern to the bow of the ship, and considering this concerned their immediately superior and—if Piett's eyes weren’t deceiving him—friend, Piett didn’t have the heart to refuse them their request to join. Besides, the man had the most info on the captured suspect so far, and Piett wasn’t about to deny himself such a source before facing the prisoner.</p><p>Never mind that it was always a wise idea to stock up on relevant knowledge when one knew a positively incendiary Lord Vader was prowling the halls and heading for your destination.</p><p>Unfortunately, the Commanders Appo and Cody had to depart for the medical ward instead of joining them, having been summoned by Lord Vader to once more act as Lars’ security detail while his Lordship was absent.</p><p>Instead, they were now accompanied by the Troopers Grace and Rocko, who had both summarily introduced themselves as two of the veterans Veers had approved for security duty while the lockdown lasted. Rocko, who had introduced herself as a woman, and Grace, who had introduced himself as a man, had taken up flanking positions around him and Lyvon while they marched through the oddly empty halls towards the detention center.</p><p>Curfew had gone into effect for the day shift, and while it was usually encouraged of Crewmates to be in their bunk at a reasonable time, matter of fact was that aboard the Lady, and with both the crew size and general twenty-four-seven activity, it simply wasn’t practical to install and enforce a curfew as a matter of course. If he was entirely honest with himself, there was a great amount of credence to the way some of the crew described the Lady as “less of a ship, and more of a deep-space city.”</p><p>And like any city, they apparently had their own criminal population too.</p><p>Grimacing in distaste, he returned his attention towards Lyvon, only two seconds having passed. ‘And what did you say of how the suspect was apprehended, Engineer?’ he asked lowly, trying not to let the fury seep into his tone.</p><p>‘We found him attempting to dispose of some of the evidence, sir,’ Lyvon answered promptly, voice icy as well. ‘He was apprehended when he attempted to make a run for it. None too gently, I might add,’ they said with a vicious satisfaction and Piett couldn’t say he disagreed with the sentiment. ‘There may be some injuries and a few scuffs on him,’ they finished, sounding utterly unconcerned.</p><p>The Trooper to his right, Grace, snorted loudly. ‘I’ll say,’ he muttered. ‘The guy was full-on tackled by three vod’e. If there aren’t any scuffs to show for, I'd almost be impressed.’</p><p>‘Or disappointed with the vod'e in question,’ Rocko retorted just as lowly. Piett ignored the both of them as he continued his questioning.</p><p>‘And they admitted to the sabotage too?’ he followed up sternly. Detaining and interrogating someone who turned out to be an innocent would be a nasty business, but Piett knew himself well enough that he wouldn’t be able to treat the prisoner in an unbiased manner unless he heard here and now that guilt hadn’t be asserted yet. Not that he needed to, given that there were multiple eye witnesses of them attempting to get rid of evidence.</p><p>That concern disappeared as soon as Lyvon turned to grin at him, or rather, bare their teeth at him. ‘Not in as many words. Though he didn’t have the good sense to exercise his right to remain silent, sir, let’s put it that way,’ they said, satisfaction dripping off their tone.</p><p>‘They’re right, sir,’ Rocko agreed instantly. ‘I recall an admission of motive, a couple of curses, and some hints to a possible co-conspirator too,’ she summed up succinctly. ‘If they weren’t the culprit, they sure as hell were attempting to aid the person who <em>is</em> in evading our grasp.’</p><p>Well then. Piett would feel exactly no remorse when they turned the proverbial thumbscrews on this man. And only some part of him was disappointed that there would be little to be gained by actually turning down the thumbscrews on this man, but they needed information, not incoherent confessions made while half-delirious with pain. He doubted the man would be granted a swift death though. Even if he wasn't the saboteur, he was still caught attempting to aid and abet them, and Lord Vader was far from in a forgiving mood.</p><p>‘And who are they, exactly?’ he asked darkly after he gave the Trooper at the first checkpoint before the detention center his codes, eager to put a name to the vague threat that had been hanging over them. ‘You seem to know who they are, Lyvon, but enlighten the rest of us.’</p><p>‘I’m rather curious to that particular tale as well, sir,’ Grace agreed as he stepped forward to unlock a door. ‘Who is he?’</p><p>Lyvon made a sound deep in their throat that wasn’t entirely unlike a snarl and began their explanation. ‘His name is Rodolfus Herst, and he is— <em>was</em> a part of the Engineering Corps. Vice Engineer, fifth rank, to be exact.’ Lyvon pulled a hand through their hair and blew out a breath. ‘I can guess as to his motivation beyond what he yelled as well. Herst is from an old core world family, and his name carries some weight in the right circles, but— well…’ they trailed off.</p><p>‘Not here,’ Piett finished easily, certain in his assertion. Your name alone could get you far in most of the Imperial Armed Forces. But not here. Not aboard the Lady. Not under Lord Vader. Nothing but sheer competence and luck would do, and if you didn’t have either, you either didn’t advance in a best-case scenario, or were disposed of in a worst-case scenario.</p><p>Lyvon shot him a significant look. ‘Yes,’ they agreed, ‘Not here.’ They sighed. ‘Herst… he’s a good Engineer. Decent enough. But nothing special, nothing that would warrant the higher-ups taking notice, and I never saw fit to promote him beyond Vice Engineer, fifth rank either. Neither did Lars. Herst… never took that well. He attempted to petition for a promotion many times, but his performance never improved to match his desired rank, so I dismissed it every time.’</p><p>Rocko made a disgusted sound that Piett could swear was accompanied by an eyeroll. ‘Oh, one of <em>those</em> types,’ she grumbled, scorn thick in her voice.</p><p>‘Exactly,’ Lyvon agreed. ‘I see that now, but then…’ Their expression turned pained as they recalled the rest of their story. ‘Lars heard him out as well,’ Lyvon revealed, ‘But… demanded that he be able to perform certain tasks and assignments to his satisfaction before promoting him, and gave him those chances. Things like being able to keep cool in a crisis, being able to lead a team of people to perform at a certain level, and general leadership, but Herst failed, inevitably, every time.’</p><p>Piett hissed through his teeth as a picture began to take shape, barely registering the second checkpoint as they passed through. ‘And let me guess,’ he nearly growled. ‘Herst took umbrage with Lars instead of seeking to improve his own skills?’</p><p>‘Spot on, sir,’ Lyvon said with a mirthless smile. ‘He blamed Lars, and when Lars instead responded by saying that the Officers above him <em>were</em> able to perform to satisfactory standards, and that while Herst wasn’t quite at their level yet, he was happy to allow the man to retake his trials whenever he felt ready for them, well…’ Lyvon shrugged his shoulders. ‘Herst lost it. It was one of the few times that I’ve seen Lars pull rank too. Sir may be a rather easy superior to work under, but he still demands a certain level of respect. When Herst refused to submit to his judgment and proceeded to create a scene in which he slandered Lars’ name and those of some other Officers with— deplorable language, Lars actually saw it fit to have him suspended for a while, citing his inability to treat his fellow Officers and sentients with any modicum of respect.’</p><p>One of the Troopers whistled low and Piett could only agree. For Lars to actually deem someone as having gone too far and discipline them to the extent of suspension… he couldn’t believe this hadn’t sent the scuttlebutt spinning like a top. ‘Why is this the first I’m hearing of this incident, Engineer?’ he asked, curiosity piqued. Usually, the grapevine was rather reliable in dispensing any Lars-related news within days or hours.</p><p>‘It happened during an Officer meeting,’ Lyvon explained quietly. ‘And Lars asked to keep the incident amongst ourselves and not air any dirty laundry beyond necessity. Herst had already been disciplined according to him, and he didn’t think it proper for him to be punished by the court of public opinion as well. So the paperwork was filed, we deflected the rumors amongst the Corps as best we could, and Herst was proud enough that he wasn’t too inclined towards discussing his suspension either. The incident faded into the background, we had plenty other things to worry ourselves over, and we moved on.’ They sighed. ‘Or so we thought.’</p><p>Piett grimaced in sympathy. A suspension may be an unpleasant affair and a stain on one’s record, if not end one’s climb through the ranks in some rare cases, but with a population of one-point-two million aboard the Lady and a fiercely competitive atmosphere amongst her Officers, they weren’t exactly <em>uncommon</em> either. Perhaps not everyday happenings, but certainly not rare either, and always preferrable to an execution.</p><p>To hear that Herst had managed to get himself suspended by someone who was likely the single-most agreeable person on the Lady did not paint a favorable portrait of him to say the least, and Piett was beginning to wonder what in the world the man had had to <em>do</em> for Lars to decide to snap.</p><p>‘When was this?’ he asked. There hadn’t been any reports these last couple of months, so that meant—</p><p>‘About three and a half months ago, sir,’ Lyvon answered promptly. ‘Herst’s suspension was lifted after two weeks, and he resumed his duties up until— up until now.’</p><p>So there would have been plenty of time for a plan to form. Right here, under all of their noses. Piett nodded absently as they approached the entrance gates of the detention center. He was likely far from the right state of mind to face this man in a calm and unbiased manner, but until Lord Vader arrived to carry out the interrogation in full, there was time being wasted that could be spent either getting information out of Herst or putting the fear of the Empire into the man so that he’d be easier to crack under Lord Vader.</p><p>The Troopers manning the detention center saluted sharply as they approached and were already moving by the time Piett had snapped off his own salute, clearly working on the correct presumption that they were here for one prisoner and one prisoner only.</p><p>‘He’s in interrogation cell 3-8R, sir,’ one of the Troopers volunteered as they dropped their own salute. ‘Cuffed and all. I’d say he’s had some decent time to think on his situation.’</p><p>Piett nodded his thanks to the Trooper but didn’t break his stride except to instruct Lyvon to wait in the entrance hallway. Time was of the essence here, and he wasn’t about to waste a single second.</p><p>Navigating the twisting and unintuitive corridors of the detention facility, he wondered idly whether the man had enough of a spine to resist selling out his co-conspirators until after Lord Vader had arrived or if he’d crack before then. Fear of the unknown could be a powerful motivator, after all.</p><p>Coming to a halt in front of the interrogation cell in question, he was pleased to note that the Troopers stationed here had taken no chances in regards to security and had a full squad standing guard in the hallway. With a click of his code cylinder and a beep of the lock, the door to cell 3-8R slid open and Piett stepped inside.</p><p>Inside, the lights were on the verge of headache-inducing bright, but angled away from the interrogator’s position through subtle architectural tricks. The room was colder than was strictly comfortable, and the whole place was designed to inspire a subtle but suitable air of menace and powerlessness. In the midst of that room was a plain, polished durasteel table that was welded to the floor, the only odd feature being the cuffs built into the tabletop that allowed someone just enough mobility to comfortably stand up but not much else.</p><p>Currently, they were restraining the sole target of Piett's ire: Rodolfus Herst.</p><p>Distantly, he registered the two Troopers taking up position in the corners behind him, but Piett never took his eyes off of the man who was part of the cause for so much suffering aboard his ship.</p><p>Colorless dark hair and an overall plain appearance, the man was as non-descript as his apparent performance had been as an Engineer. The only exception being the remarkably ugly stain that was both his suspension and a disdainful sneer, worsened by the messy scab running the side of his temple which he estimated was the result of the “full-on tackle” the vod’e had apparently laid down on the man.</p><p>‘So,’ the man sneered, and Piett immediately decided to dislike him on the fact that he seemed to speak through his teeth alone, ‘The black bastard from hell has decided to send his mutt to handle this. Why am I not surprised?’</p><p>Narrowing his eyes at the man and feeling the rage boiling away in his blood, Piett was ever-so glad that this man had already been caught committing a crime red-handed, as he was far from certain he would be able to keep himself from planting a fist somewhere soft and painful.</p><p>‘Lord Vader is en route as we speak, and will arrive to interrogate you shortly,’ he informed the man in a clipped and faux-polite tone, his rage slightly quenched when he saw visible fear enter the man’s eyes even as he kept up his bravado. ‘I am merely here to see if you won’t render his visit a short one and explain to me why, in the name of the Empire, you thought it a wise idea to <em>sabotage—’</em> and he really couldn’t help how he hissed that word either, ‘—Head Engineer Lars’ workshop.’</p><p>This man, <em>this man,</em> had decided that Lars deserved to die and he was willing to carry out the act, no matter who had urged him to it. Why.</p><p>Herst scoffed loudly and leaned back in his chair. ‘Don’t pretend like you care about the brat, <em>Captain,’</em> he spat. ‘There is no favor from Lord Vader you can gain here. Be a man about it and at least be honest as to why you’re doing this.’</p><p>Glaring at the man he wasn’t even sure deserved that designation, Piett barely refrained from grinding his teeth. ‘I am,’ he retorted icily. ‘I want to know what makes you think an innocent young man was an appropriate target for a murder attempt. Or was it an assassination? I notice that you do not deny staging the sabotage.’</p><p>Herst’s eyes widened and he hissed a curse under his breath. ‘Know your place, you backwater degenerate,’ he growled to Piett, ‘I do not need to talk to you, and I know my rights.’ He jerked his chin up defiantly and glared at Piett down his nose in a move that he had long since become desensitized to. Why all aristocrats thought it would be an effective move to look at someone like they were dirt on their shoes, he had no idea.</p><p>‘Certainly,’ he agreed mildly, not so much as twitching in his stance, ‘Though I would like to note that, although you most certainly do not have to talk to me, you <em>will</em> talk to Lord Vader.’ He let his mouth twitch up into a cold smile. ‘One way or the other.’</p><p>Something shook in Herst’s posture, flashing across his face, and Piett thought distantly that this was likely what people meant by “smelling blood in the water.” Herst had shown the cracks in his armor; a deep-seated fear of Lord Vader that was eating away at him even as he attempted to display himself as utterly unconcerned with the situation. Perfect. He could use that.</p><p>‘He has no right,’ Herst threw back with a desperation edging in. ‘When word reaches home—’</p><p><em>‘If,’</em> Piett corrected idly. <em>‘If</em> word reaches your home, Mr. Herst.’</p><p>‘That is <em>Engineer</em> Herst to you, Captain,’ Herst rebuked, scowling darkly. ‘I <em>will</em> be addressed by my proper rank.’</p><p>Piett narrowed his eyes even further but inclined his head eventually. ‘Very well,’ he agreed, not even bothering to disguise the disgust in his tone. <em>‘Engineer</em> Herst. I take it that if you are insisting on formerly applicable designations, you wish to be treated as if you were <em>not</em> living on borrowed time as well?’ Perhaps not the wisest thing to say if he was aiming for information, but <em>he</em> was not the true interrogator. He simply had to unsettled Herst to the point that Lord Vader would be able to crack open his psyche with minimal effort.</p><p>Something that he was rather successful in when for a moment, just a moment, there was nothing but realization and <em>fear</em> on Herst’s face. He quickly covered it up again, but Piett knew, he <em>knew</em> now the buttons to push. He likely wouldn’t even have to lie. ‘He has <em>no</em> right,’ Herst repeated, desperation now truly setting in. ‘He’ll be in for a world of pain once word reaches home if he does, and none of the families will stand for seeing one of their best executed,’ he asserted with such stunning confidence that Piett nearly laughed.</p><p>‘Lord Vader?’ he asked, not even having to fake a small, amused smirk. ‘Heir to the Empire, the Emperor’s Fist, and scourge of its enemies? <em>He</em> will be in for a world of hurt? I don’t think you understand that there is something of a discrepancy in power and prominence between the two of you.’ Dear Force, if it wasn’t for the act Herst had committed, he doubted Lord Vader even would have <em>heard</em> of the man. Unlike Lars, he certainly hadn’t done anything worthwhile to be noticed for.</p><p>‘Smoke and mirrors,’ Herst dismissed easily, and for a moment Piett honestly couldn’t tell if the man truly believed that or not. ‘He would be nothing without the competence of his underlings propping him up. Nothing at all. Besides, he was hurt enough when that brat almost bit it, I’m sure.’</p><p>Piett hummed low in his throat. Considering what he had seen of Lord Vader's reaction when Lars had gotten injured, he begrudgingly ceded Herst a point. However, he personally thought that, much like a wild beast, it was foolish at best and suicidal at worst to think that an injury, whether it be physical or— or emotional, would be a wise idea to inflict. Especially since it seemed clear that Lord Vader had a very strong sense of <em>vengeance</em> that had only gone unnoticed up until now because he had no reason to utilize it.</p><p>Not so now.</p><p>‘Perhaps,’ he conceded begrudgingly and took vicious pleasure in tearing the smug smirk on Herst’s face with his next sentence. ‘However, I fail to see how that in any way would benefit <em>you,</em> Engineer Herst, since pain seems to be an agitator to Lord Vader rather than any form of deterrent.’</p><p>Herst’s throat worked heavily as he swallowed, and Piett steadily met the man’s gaze as the ex-Engineer tried to stare him down. This man, if not the saboteur himself, had at the very least attempted to allow the true culprit get away with a heinous crime. Which meant, if nothing else, that he endorsed the attempted assassination of Lars or perhaps even knew their identity. He doubted they would be two separate people, though. Herst’s identity and rank as an Engineer with a grudge towards Lars worked too perfectly with what they knew of the workshop’s security systems to be a coincidence.</p><p>‘Alright,’ Herst managed to get out at last, with Piett making no attempts to make it any easier on the man even as he had to admit that the man had managed to keep his tone steadier than expected, ‘Let’s say, for the sake of an argument, that I did compromise a few of the printer’s systems. If so, so what? The brat has lived far past his expiration date anyway.’</p><p>‘Expiration date?’ Piett questioned sharply. Was he implying what he thought he was implying—</p><p>‘Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Captain,’ Herst snapped back. ‘No one ought to survive that long, that close in proximity to Lord Vader, that often. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. So what if the brat had died? He was long overdue and it would’ve stopped this stagnation of the rotation of Officers so that the <em>proper</em> people could finally get their chance.’</p><p>Piett blinked. What, in the name of the whole fucking Empire, had he just heard?</p><p>‘Repeat that, please,’ he said, somehow keeping his voice pleasant even as he could hear the Troopers shift dangerously behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know that they were ready and willing to jump on this man and to a repeat performance of the tackle that got Herst apprehended. ‘Repeat that, word for word, because I do believe I didn’t understand you the first time, Engineer.’</p><p>Herst glared at him, even as he sometimes glanced off to the Troopers stationed behind Piett, and he knew what kind of picture they must be making right now. Still, the man either found his courage or his stupidity, and proceeded with his statement. ‘Don’t act like you’re above it all and don’t know what I’m talking about, <em>Captain,’</em> he hissed. ‘You heard the rumors too, didn’t you? The one ship in the Navy where promotions were fast and often for the right kind of Officers, and where the wrong kind didn’t last long.’ He gave Piett a scornful once-over and sneered in disgust. ‘I don’t know how <em>you</em> managed to cheat the system, but you’ll face your own expiration date sooner rather than later. Lord Vader may be nothing without the competent under him, but at least he’s <em>useful</em> in that aspect.’ Herst fell silent for a beat and then amended, ‘Most of the time. It seemed the brat needed some helping along in this case for some reason.’</p><p>He had heard it right. He, for whatever reason, <em>had</em> heard those words come out of Herst’s mouth. He believed Lars deserved to die because he managed to <em>not</em> incur Lord Vader's wrath and that was— that was—</p><p>
  <em>Who in the name of the Force—!?</em>
</p><p>‘So, let me get this perfectly straight, Engineer Herst,’ he said, his tone as pleasant as he could manage but likely still revealing his mildly-unhinged feelings. ‘Your reasoning for why Lars deserved to die was because he managed to earn and <em>keep</em> an Officer ranking aboard the Lady and build a rapport with Lord Vader instead of getting executed for failure?’</p><p>Lars. Luke Lars. Eighteen years old, signed on as soon as he had reached majority by Lord Vader himself, bright and clever and kind and joyful. And this man, this— this <em>dreg</em> of society, believed—?</p><p>Herst snarled. ‘It wasn’t <em>his</em> to take!’ he shouted. ‘What right did <em>he,</em> a no-name nobody with less understanding of <em>proper</em> culture and norms than your average house tooka, have to take the position as Head Engineer aboard the <em>flagship</em> of the Empire!? What right did that interloper <em>bastard</em> have!? And what wrong is there in <em>removing him—!?’</em></p><p>That was as far as he got, and it took Piett a second to realize that he had moved at all and that there was a considerable shock of pressure in his right arm as a balled-up fist connected with Herst’s nose, breaking it with a sharp <em>snap</em><em>.</em></p><p>Herst started shrieking in pain a split second later and Piett found himself being lightly restrained and pulled away from the man one second after that. He wasn’t exactly aware of his surroundings, seeing as blood was pounding in his ears and there was a red haze over everything, but he was pretty sure he was being lightly restrained seeing as they were quite obviously not trying their hardest to pull him off of the man and working himself free was a matter of merely shaking them off.</p><p>Grabbing Herst by the lapels and getting right up in his face, Piett hissed like something venomous and <em>dangerous</em> as the smell of iron filled his nose, blood dripping onto the cuffs of his jacket<em>.</em> ‘Now listen here, and listen closely,’ he said lowly, cold fire pumping through his veins with every beat of a too fast heart that was drumming to the beat of something that whispered to <em>protect.</em> ‘You got caught attempting to destroy evidence red-handed, <em>Engineer Herst,’</em> he hissed, spitting the title like a curse, poison on his tongue and taboo in the air, ‘And some of your most vital rights as both a citizen and employee of the Empire were effectively dismissed the moment you decided to commit treason by making an enemy out of both Lars and <em>Lord Vader.</em> A decision which, frankly speaking, is so staggeringly, shortsightedly <em>stupid</em> that I am almost at a loss for words.’ “Almost” being the keyword. He had plenty of things to say to Herst.</p><p>He released Herst and let the man fall back into his chair unceremoniously, blood still dripping from his nose and down his face, his mind calming down again somewhat from the boiling in his veins as he realized what he had done. <em>Sithspit,</em> he had allowed his rage to take reign and <em>punched a prisoner.</em> It didn’t matter that Herst had had it coming or that he hardly regretted it, it didn’t matter that it would be nothing less than a miracle if the man survived the day. He had still punched a man who couldn’t defend himself and was in custody, and that crossed a <em>line.</em></p><p>He sighed as he stuffed his rage back down until he could no longer feel it seething just under his skin. Unfortunately, what was done was done, and he was hardly in a position where apologizing would be the wise choice. He needed Herst to confess, and as much as he despised it, he knew that an apology would be seen as a weakness by the man and would lead him back to defiance instead of compliance.</p><p>But he would need to control himself better from here on out.</p><p>Adopting an icy disdainful demeanor once more, he shook a few drops of blood off his glove and onto the floor with a flick of his hand. ‘So, allow me to elaborate on your current situation,’ he offered coolly. Crossing his arms, he glared down at Herst with sheer disdain as he mentally compiled the events as if writing a report. ‘You tried to kill a Crewmate with a despicable act of self-admitted sabotage—’</p><p>‘I admit to <em>nothing,’</em> Herst countered furiously as he finally found his voice again, sounding even more nasal now that he was clutching his nose, something Piett would be all too happy to shut down with barely another word. ‘And you cannot make me say otherwise—'</p><p>‘Self-admitted,’ Piett interrupted coolly, ‘On the count that so far, no-one but five people, amongst which myself and Lord Vader, knew that the act of sabotage was a compromised printer.’ He grinned darkly as he saw the realization dawn on Herst’ face. ‘You gave yourself away, <em>Mr.</em> Herst,’ he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard and he could tell that Herst was straining to do so, ‘And you will come to regret such sloppy performance and execution of your treason very, <em>very</em> shortly.’</p><p>The way all blood drained out of Herst’s face was very gratifying indeed, the man’s pale countenance contrasting vividly with the blood still dripping from his now-crooked nose.</p><p>‘But do allow me to continue illuminating you on your current situation,’ he continued conversationally, feeling himself effortlessly slip back into his old persona of when the people sitting across from him were only small-time criminals and pirates. This, at least, he knew how to handle. ‘You tried to kill a Crewmate in a premeditated murder and injured them gravely in the attempt, which, incidentally, also counts as an assassination attempt. You admitted to treason. You tried to destroy evidence of said treason. Now do not misunderstand me,’ he said idly, tapping his fingers along his arm, ‘You would already be marked a dead man walking if you had attempted said things with a fresh recruit barely off the shuttle, but you didn’t.’</p><p>He straightened up to his full height which, while far from impressive, still was enough to tower over the seated man. ‘You chose to do <em>all of that</em> with Lord Vader's highest favored and the young man who caught the attention of half the Empire at large, amongst whom are both the Emperor and the Grand Moff themselves. You chose the target of a genius with whole factions, systems, and even the Imperial Court vying for his favor and a scrap of his intellect, who has nonetheless chosen to stay loyal to Lord Vader. You decided to burn yourself on a rising star the likes of which you couldn’t even <em>hope</em> to match. You decided to target <em>Luke Lars.’</em></p><p>He watched idly as Herst’s pale face turned pasty once the realization set in, and Piett noted that the man apparently <em>did</em> realize who was and wasn’t of interest to the head of the Empire and whose side they should choose if retaliation for this action did come from Lord Vader. A surprising development. He hadn’t thought the man capable of introspection to that degree, especially through what was likely a not-insignificant amount of pain from his broken nose. Ah well, it wouldn’t last much longer.</p><p>‘Furthermore,’ he continued, keeping his tone as light as a conversation on the weather would warrant even as he attempted to glare a hole through the man’s skull, ‘While that was a foolish mistake in and of itself, you <em>also</em> ensured that the <em>one</em> person who could perhaps, with a not insignificant expenditure of effort, spare you your approaching fate is both incapacitated and likely utterly unwilling to stick out his neck for you due to your actions. You chose to make an enemy out of perhaps the second most powerful person on this ship.’</p><p>Piett grinned mirthlessly in a display of teeth. ‘That was a critical mistake.’</p><p>And one he <em>wouldn’t</em> be recovering from, Piett knew. Not as long as Lord Vader still breathed in that nightmarish manner. The dark Lord wouldn’t stand for it.</p><p>And Herst apparently knew that too, keeping quiet and still in stark contrast to his earlier behavior. <em>How the realization of mortality changes people,</em> Piett thought idly. In the end, they all had to face who they truly were, he supposed, and if Herst’s reactions were anything to go by, he could guess that the man was highly underwhelmed by what he found. All his pride in his name and skillset, gone in a puff of smoke once the realization hit that in the eyes of the great and powerful he wished to walk amongst, he would never be greater than a “brat” from the outer rim. It would be pitiable if it weren’t for the fact that said pride had spurred him to attempt murder for reasons he now found hollow.</p><p>He dropped the amicable façade once he saw that the fight had thoroughly been drained out of Herst, closing in for the kill. ‘So, allow me to lay out your options,’ he hissed icily, ‘You either admit your deeds, confess to how and why you did them, tell us who else was behind this horrific plot, and earn yourself a swift execution or prison sentence as the traitor you are. Or,’ he said, placing both hands on the table and leaning over them, staring Herst straight into his pain-and-despair dulled eyes, ‘You keep up this futile denial and arrogance for the sake of your coconspirators who haven’t and <em>won’t</em> attempt to aid you, and earn yourself a slow and torturous death as Lord Vader works the information out of you <em>anyway.’</em></p><p>For a moment an ember of rebellion seemed to enter Herst once more and he glared at Piett. ‘Don’t speak of what you don’t know, <em>Captain—'</em></p><p>‘I am the current head of this investigation acting on Lord Vader's orders and all relevant information is reported directly to me,’ Piett threw back ruthlessly, aiming to nip that particular tirade in the bud before he had time to build up steam. ‘Not only has there been no attempt from anyone to free or even contact you, there hasn’t so much as been a <em>whisper</em> of support for you. You, Mr. Herst, stand <em>alone.</em> And whether you believe that or not, fact remains that until your coconspirators are found, <em>you</em> bear the full brunt of the retaliation for <em>all</em> of your conspiracy’s actions.’</p><p>‘That’s not—’ Herst protested.</p><p>‘It is,’ Piett growled, <em>seeing</em> the cracks start to form in the man’s resolve. He just needed a bit more before Herst would either crack or rally, and though this interrogation was frankly barely worth the name with how sloppy he had gone about it, the fact remained that any information Piett could get would be a bonus to Lord Vader's far more skilled tactics. ‘So, allow me to reiterate,’ he continued, preparing for the final push that would either do it or doom it, <em>‘You committed treason</em><em>.</em> Even if Lord Vader deigned to let you live, there is no scenario in which you would walk out of the courts alive and a free man. I advise you stop thinking on the premise of how to escape a traitor’s fate, and start considering what will allow you the least painful death or perhaps even merely a prison sentence in return for cooperation if you are very, <em>very</em> lucky.’</p><p>Herst stared at the table silently, his eyes fixated on where his hands were shackled to the furniture as blood silently dripped onto the durasteel surface in small droplets, the flow finally beginning to stem. ‘And if, hypothetically speaking, Captain,’ he spoke quietly, all earlier fight and fury run out, ‘I wished to stay loyal to the bitter end and die defiant?’</p><p>‘Then I'd say you should have chosen your loyalties wiser, Mr. Herst,’ Piett retorted coolly, ‘And thought of whom you know who has ever been successful in defying Lord Vader.’ There was no one that Piett knew of. No one, but perhaps one. And <em>he</em> wouldn’t be defending Herst any time soon.</p><p>Herst nodded silently and folded his hands as he turned a pensive look back on the table, Piett lapsing into silence himself, unwilling to potentially push the man away from a surrender instead of closer.</p><p>One, two, three moments ticked by, and once Piett thought that perhaps Herst wouldn’t say anything at all anymore, a sharp buzz sounded from the corner to his right, a quick glance revealing the Stormtrooper checking the comm in question that had just gone off.</p><p>‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Grace said evenly, ‘But you’ll have to cut this short. Lord Vader has arrived.’</p><p>Ah, perfect timing as usual. Piett nodded with a grim smile, and jerked his head towards the door in a subtle gesture for the Troopers to leave. The doors hissed open without any further input, and for one, heart-stopping moment, Piett thought they would be joined by Lord Vader before remembering the wardens who would have been watching this whole exchange over the cameras.</p><p>Striding over towards the door, Piett would have walked out without hesitation if not for the sudden call of—</p><p>‘Captain.’</p><p>Glancing back while still standing in the door opening, Piett met Herst’s eyes one last time, and he doubted there would even be another. The man seemed to stumble over his own words for a moment, conflict clear on his face, before he sighed. ‘Claud Rotz,’ he finally said, ‘He… he was in on it too and knows more than I do. I was… he only approached me a few days ago on behalf of someone else, and promised that I— that I would be given protection if I went through with it. I… have my suspicions on who that someone was, but Rotz? Rotz will know for sure.’</p><p>A million unspoken statements went unsaid in that moment. Unsaid. But not unheard. Piett regarded the man coolly, and nodded once. ‘I will inform Lord Vader of your cooperation,’ he offered in return. ‘And I suggest that if you have any faith you follow, you make your peace with it in the next couple of moments. Farewell, Mr. Herst.’</p><p>With that, he strode out of the interrogation cell, fully aware that he was likely the last person who would see Herst alive and not caring in the slightest. The man may have found himself in a hopeless situation that would have almost been pitiful, but Piett couldn’t forget the sight of a bruised and burnt youth, being laid out on a stretcher. If Herst met his end here, it was no more than he had planned for Lars.</p><p>Still, the man had cooperated in the end for whatever reasoning he had found within himself, and they now had a name: Claud Rotz. A name that was familiar to him, unfortunately enough.</p><p>A Naval Commander aboard the Lady, the man was of old blood and older money and made sure everyone knew it too. Appointed to his position in the usual fashion of the navy instead of Lord Vader's more extreme, and yet, more meritocratic methods, the man was a pain to work with and respected Piett's rank as Captain with about the same casual disgust as one would have for a perishable that had been left out of the freezer for too long.</p><p>Somehow, it was neither a surprise or a disappointment that Rotz was apparently wrapped up in this conspiracy.</p><p>Sighing deeply, Piett set a quick pace through the maze of halls that was the detention center. It seemed that he had another stop to make before this day was over. One for which he had a feeling he might want to take more than two Troopers. Just to be safe.</p><p>Steps echoing through the halls, Piett hardly heard the distinctive sound drifting his way until he was nearly upon the exit already. The sound of a cycling respirator. The wardens had apparently been utterly literal when they had said Lord Vader was here. Ordering his mind to give the report that likely would be expected of him, Piett stepped into the entrance hall of the detention center and approached the black specter waiting for him there with as much confidence as he could muster.</p><p>‘My Lord,’ he said as he saluted his Commander sharply.</p><p>‘Captain Piett,’ the man returned with a nod, vocoder rumbling with something dangerous. ‘I assume that by the blood stains on your uniform you just came from the suspect’s cell?’</p><p>He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly as he remembered the bloodstains marking both his gloves and cuffs from when he had allowed his emotions to overcome him and attacked Herst. Cursing internally as his adrenaline levels skyrocketed, he endeavored to keep his face blank of any further expressions. ‘As you say, my Lord,’ he admitted evenly, volunteering no further information while Lord Vader made his judgement.</p><p>‘And you are aware, Captain,’ Vader rumbled lowly, a hint of irritation leaking through that sent shivers down Piett's spine, ‘That the application of pain is highly inefficient and makes for unreliable information?’</p><p>‘I am, my Lord,’ he admitted as steadily as he could, heart pounding like a drum. ‘It was the result of an unintentional emotional reflex on my part to the culprit’s words and a transgression that I regret. It resulted in a bloody nose and I ensured I did not lose control again. I apologize.’</p><p>Lord Vader held Piett's gaze, and, for a moment, it felt like he was as on display as a vivisected specimen in a particularly cruel laboratory. Then the moment passed and Vader nodded as he turned his gaze back to the hallways Piett had just left, the world realigning itself even though he noticed a… muffled quality to it? ‘You were not in the right frame of mind to be confronting the… culprit,’ Lord Vader stated matter-of-factly even as Piett felt something inside him jerk with that statement. Lord Vader <em>knew.</em> He knew like he always knew, and yet it never got any less eerie. ‘So why did you, Captain?’</p><p>He swallowed heavily. Honesty. What he needed now was honesty. Nothing else would be accepted by his Lordship. ‘I felt the responsibility to take this, my Lord,’ he answered, keep his voice steady, steady enough to hide the fear edging in. ‘To scout out the waters, as it were. And I… I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Not if it could help to solve this case. Time is of the essence, and I hoped to either crack the culprit’s defenses or extract some preliminary information to continue the investigation while you proceeded with the proper interrogation, my Lord.’</p><p>‘And were you successful?’ came the immediate follow up question which had Piett sighing with relief internally. At the very least his screw-up hadn’t cost him any results.</p><p>‘I was, my Lord,’ he answered, steady, always steady, there was no place for pride here, not yet. ‘Herst has named Claud Rotz as a coconspirator and claimed that there are more members of this conspiracy yet. He has agreed to cooperate with the hope of lessening his punishment to either a prison sentence or… something swift and painless,’ he finished, unwilling to say the word “execution” when he was still revealing the details of his own blunder.</p><p>‘He confessed to being the culprit then?’ Lord Vader rumbled, and Piett could practically feel his Lordship’s irritation with him shift into fury with Herst.</p><p>‘Yes, my Lord,’ he confirmed quicky. ‘He knew details of the sabotage no one but those present during the initial discovery and yourself knew, like the method by which the explosion occurred. His motivation was apparently a grudge against Lars for both suspending him for gross insubordination and for, from his point of view, “stealing” the position of Head Engineer from him. His views apparently got him recruited by the conspiracy to actually carry out the sabotage. He was brought into the fold only a few days ago by Commander Rotz.’</p><p>Static rumbled out of the vocoder like thunder. ‘I see…’ the black specter nearly growled. ‘Very well, Captain, I will concede that your preliminary interrogation bore fruit, despite your mistake,’ Lord Vader acknowledged with a dip of his head and Piett nearly felt lightheaded with relief for a moment before he collected himself.</p><p>‘Thank you, my Lord,’ he said as sincerely as he could.</p><p>Lord Vader waved off his gratitude and Piett knew that it was the signal to begin refocusing on the mission. ‘You did not compromise your objective, but do not repeat your mistake,’ was the warning he got, and considering what usually happened to people who made mistakes of this caliber under Lord Vader, that counted as down-right permissive.</p><p>‘I won’t, my Lord,’ he agreed, and just like that he knew that he was, if not forgiven as far as Lord Vader <em>could</em> forgive, at least no longer on the hook for his mistake as long as he didn’t repeat it. And while the rush of relief was pleasant, the adrenaline draining away left him feeling more exhausted than anything.</p><p>Lord Vader made a low sound as he tilted his head to the side for a moment, regarding Piett from what seemed to be the corners of his eye. ‘As for the investigation, I take it you will be taking Commander Rotz into custody?’</p><p>‘As soon as I have recruited a few more Troopers to aid me in the task, my Lord,’ he agreed easily.</p><p>That had his towering Commander turn his attention fully back to him. ‘You expect a fight, Captain?’ he asked, and Piett… couldn’t quite decipher the tone that laid underneath that statement.</p><p>‘Not exactly, my Lord,’ he admitted, ‘But… I do not believe this will be as easy as it seems. An intuition, if you will.’</p><p>The dark Lord was silent for a moment before nodding his assent. ‘Yes, I believe you are right, Captain. Very well, I met a patrol of Troopers in the A-6 near the starboard barracks on my way here. Judging by their route, they should still be in the area. You will be able to recruit from them,’ the man informed him, and Piett saluted gratefully.</p><p>‘Thank you, my Lord,’ he said, mentally mapping the shortest route to the barracks in question. A ten-minute walk, if he wasn’t mistaken, and directly on the way to the Officer quarters where Rotz should currently be thanks to the curfew. A more efficient route would be a rare find indeed.</p><p>Lord Vader turned away from him and his attention back to hallway that led to the cell where Herst had to now be sweating bullets. ‘Then I believe you have your orders, Captain, and I have mine,’ the dark Lord rumbled lowly. ‘If it is pertinent to your investigation, I will inform you of any information I may extract. Until then; dismissed.’</p><p>With that final order, the black specter strode into the hallway, the Troopers respectfully backing out of his Lordship's way as he disappeared into the maze of the detention facility, and somehow, Piett knew that he would indeed be the last man to see Herst alive. With the fact of the man’s misdeeds, he found it hard for that to be a pity.</p><p>He sighed as he watched the man go. Well, he had made a mistake and survived reporting it to Lord Vader with barely a slap on the wrist, so there must still be something or one looking out for him. Granted, his mistake hadn’t, in the end, made much of an impact on the end results he’d managed to produce, but being inefficient and, worst of all, <em>lax</em> in one’s methods was as surefire a manner as any to end up gasping for a breath that would never come.</p><p>And yet, his Lordship had almost seemed… understanding in his dismissal of Piett's slip-up, and that, more than anything, spoke to how long this day had already been if he was starting to think <em>that.</em></p><p>Well, the day wasn’t over yet, and he still had Troopers to recruit, a Commander to arrest, and possibly a <em>second</em> interrogation to oversee. Joy all around.</p><p>‘That certainly seemed like it went well, sir,’ a voice sounded from behind him, and Piett's shoulders slumped slightly in relief as he turned to face Lyvon. The Engineer was eyeing both the hallway and him in concern as they walked up to him, and for once, Piett was in complete agreement.</p><p>‘You could say that again, Lyvon,’ he said tiredly, breathing out as he took two seconds to process what had just happened. ‘Thankfully, his Lordship had another target for his ire in mind that was more pressing than I was.’</p><p>Lyvon shot him a look that clearly stated their doubt on that, and if it weren’t for the fact that Piett himself wasn’t entirely sure of what had just occurred, he would be offended. ‘With all possible due respect, sir,’ Lyvon retorted quietly, and Piett thought that nothing good had ever come from that phrase for those it had been directed at, ‘You looked like you were about to genuinely pass out for a moment there and you have blood on your clothes that wasn’t there a moment ago. What did you <em>do?’</em></p><p>Piett sighed as he made a mental note to change his uniform at some point. It was getting horribly stained with all it had had to endure this day. Soot, grease, and now blood, he was starting to look worse that Lars did when the young man crawled out of another vent or other.</p><p>‘I… allowed myself to be provoked by Herst,’ he admitted to the man, mindful of any other listening ears. ‘He said some… incredibly callous things concerning Lars.’</p><p>‘He means he nearly coldcocked Herst in one punch,’ Rocko supplied helpfully as she took position up at his side.</p><p>‘Mhmm,’ Grace agreed as he took the other, ‘Didn’t even allow us to haul him off, he just yanked himself free and hauled Herst up by the front of his uniform.’</p><p>‘It was one hell of a show,’ Rocko reminisced happily, her head titled back in a manner that suggested she was recalling the memory underneath her helmet.</p><p>Grace made a sudden noise and smacked her urgently on the upper arm. ‘There’s cameras in that cell, yeah? Think we could get the security footage of that?’ he asked.</p><p>Rocko tilted her head and nodded before Piett could even begin to protest to that idea. ‘Probably. Foil still owes me a favor.’</p><p>‘There will be <em>no</em> such actions or requests of <em>any</em> kind,’ he hissed at both Troopers, already feeling the headache that would come on if that footage ever did a circulation of the Lady.</p><p>Grace and Rocko both promptly saluted as they snapped to attention. ‘Sir, yes, sir!’ they chorused, and Piett got the feeling that his orders were going to be roundly ignored at the earliest convenience. Fantastic. Could this day get any—</p><p>And he was not finishing that thought. Not in a million years.</p><p>Rubbing a hand over his brow, he glared up over his fingers as he heard Lyvon stifle a laugh at his expense. He needed a drink three hours ago. Now he just needed a bottle. Preferably of something strong enough to clean wounds with. ‘Right,’ he sighed as he straightened up as best as he could and glared at the two Troopers standing a head’s height over him. ‘I don’t particularly care what you do, just be subtle about it and ensure that I never so much as catch a glimpse of whatever you plan to do, understood? I don’t want to <em>see it,</em> I don’t want to <em>hear it,</em> I don’t want to know it even <em>exists.’</em></p><p>The two Troopers glanced at each other and seemed to be holding some kind of telepathic conversation with each other like siblings were wont to do, before nodding in perfect synchronicity. ‘Yes, <em>sir!’</em></p><p>He was going to regret saying that, he could already tell, but he currently had a Commander to arrest while <em>his</em> Commander was likely strangling a man to death as they were speaking and really? He didn’t have the time or emotional investment to prevent a pair of Stormtroopers from illegally acquiring security footage for entertainment purposes. He could let this one go. It’d be fine. Well no, it wouldn’t be, but it wouldn’t kill him, and really? That’s all he was asking for at this point.</p><p>Putting the thought of whatever the two Troopers might want footage of him punching Herst for out of mind, he refocused on the tasks at hand; recruit additional Troopers, arrest Rotz. Then maybe, finally, catch a break. Maybe. It wasn’t looking particularly likely, but a man had to dream.</p><p>‘Alright,’ he said, remembering his own metal route that they would need to take to retrace Lord Vader's steps and find those Troopers, ‘Putting aside the flagrant insubordination that I frankly cannot be bothered to deal with at the moment, we need to get to the A-6. Lyvon,’ he addressed the Engineer while barely restraining himself from massaging his temples to work away an upcoming headache, ‘Are you joining us once more?’</p><p>Lyvon, for their part, thought on it for a moment before shaking their head. ‘No, sir, I’m afraid I can’t. I could excuse my earlier accompaniment as providing you with information on Herst, but frankly speaking, the Engineering Corps is still swamped with work to complete, and as the one coordinating the efforts of repairing… everything, I can’t be absent for very long.’</p><p>A line of reasoning that Piett could appreciate if nothing else. ‘Very well then, Engineer Lyvon,’ he permitted, with the barest of smiles. ‘It was a pleasure to work with you.’</p><p>They huffed out a laugh and dipped their head as they smiled. ‘The sentiment is mutual, Captain. Now please, if you would excuse me?’</p><p>‘But of course,’ he agreed easily, ‘You are dismissed, Engineer Lyvon.’</p><p>With that and the barest of smiles, the man made their way out of the detention center, back to their own realm of barely organized chaos. Piett grimaced in sympathy as he thought of his own tasks ahead. The things they did for the Empire…</p><p>Heaving out a ragged sigh, he turned back to the conspiring Troopers who he knew were going to be headache number sixteen and seventeen respectively in a couple of days and made his best attempt at appearing presentable despite the fact that he likely looked like he’d been run through a wringer.</p><p>‘Right,’ he ordered. ‘Trooper Grace, Trooper Rocko, with me. I believe we have your <em>vod’e</em> to find and a Commander to arrest.’ Which would be headache thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen all on its own with the manner in which his day was developing, but it was a task that would need handling regardless.</p><p>The Troopers, hopefully sensing his exhaustion after the day he had had, merely saluted without any further clever remarks and fell in line as he made his way out of the detention center and passed through the various checkpoints that marked the entrance and exit of the single most secure holding facility in existence that wasn’t a dedicated prison planetside.</p><p>Grateful for the fact that the Troopers weren’t far out of the way of his route and that he wouldn’t have to go looking for them while traversing the length and breadth of the ship <em>again,</em> Piett hardly remembered that small talk was a thing that existed, or that the Troopers who accompanied him were prone to it until Rocko cleared her throat.</p><p>‘So, sir,’ she began, continuing on immediately after Piett had made an affirmatory sound, ‘This Commander, who the hell is he, and what do you think is going on that these assholes are now all crawling out of the woodwork like particularly ugly woodworms?’</p><p>Piett sighed as he recalled his own interactions with the man. ‘I’m uncertain if I’m the proper person to inform you of Commander Rotz’s personality, Trooper Rocko, seeing as my opinion on him is rather biased against his favor,’ he admitted, ‘But if you want to know anyway, I’ll… try my best to inform you of who we’ll be confronting.’</p><p>Grace snorted loudly, even as a clanking sound and a muffled grunt of pain told him that Rocko had attempted to silence him before he could do so. ‘With all due respect, sir,’ the man told him sincerely, ‘If <em>you</em> have trouble respecting him, I doubt our opinion will fare much better.’</p><p>‘Very well,’ he conceded, even as he had little idea of whatever <em>that</em> meant, ‘Then I will try to explain to the best of my abilities. Commander Rotz comes from an old, wealthy family. Old enough that no one can exactly trace their lineage anymore, as its oldest records are no longer compatible with any form of technology and the interfacing software has been lost over the millennia. I know this,’ he explained flatly, ‘Because the man quite literally will <em>not</em> stop bringing it up.’</p><p>That startled a laugh out of the Troopers, and he didn’t look to closely as to why it was such a satisfying feeling to hear Grace poorly attempt to stifle a laugh under his helmet or Rocko barely hold in a snort.</p><p>‘Furthermore,’ he continued, ‘He has little respect for anyone not of a similarly old bloodline or wealth, and that includes his immediate superiors. Which includes myself, unfortunately,’ he griped, feeling all the old irritation at how, despite his near perfect record of performance, he still wouldn’t be granted even the barest modicum of respect by Rotz or any of his ilk because his bloodline hailed from the outer rim and didn’t have enough wealth to buy a moon with associated to it.</p><p>‘So he’s an asshole,’ Rocko summed up succinctly.</p><p>Piett glanced back at her over his shoulder and let the corner of his mouth quirk up minutely. ‘If that is your judgement of his character? Then yes, I suppose he is,’ he agreed, deflecting responsibility of the conclusion away from him for the sake of plausible deniability. He couldn’t very well be caught calling a subordinate Officer an “asshole” as Trooper Rocko had so accurately put it.</p><p>Something she seemed to realize as well as she inclined her helmet at him. ‘Duly noted, sir.’</p><p>He inclined his head back minutely and turned his gaze back upfront as he resumed dredging up what information he could remember of the man. ‘He performs admirably in textbook situations and combat encounters,’ he continued, recalling his own assessment reports of the man’s performance. ‘But his composure falls apart the moment he is faced with any kind of unorthodox or subversive situation. He will still follow orders well enough however, so if whomever is spearheading this conspiracy saw it fit to instruct him in contingencies in the event of discovery, he might still prove to be a problem unless subdued.’</p><p>Which would be unfortunate, since Piett could honestly do with less of those in his daily schedule. Or at the very least with more of them that could be solved in a more direct manner than this cloak and dagger game of death and deception they had unexpectedly found themselves in.</p><p>Turning the corner of the hallways into the intersection leading onto the A-6, Piett thought that at the very least they seemed to be making decent progress for the first day of investigating. They had discovered two ins into the conspiracy already, and while most of that progress could be attributed more to the apparent stupidity of the members (who <em>returned</em> to their own crime scene? Especially in an attempt to steal evidence <em>within</em> the first twenty-four hours?) than any real skill on their part, it was still a good sign that they would be able to clean up this mess before any significant impact from the lockdown ensued.</p><p>And to foil a traitor’s plan as well. A traitor who was disturbingly well-connected aboard the Lady if the two relatively high-ranking Officers were anything to go by. Usually, when a spy was uncovered, it was within the first few days of them being aboard, Lord Vader having proven himself to have an utterly <em>terrifying</em> sixth sense that could tell who was and wasn’t a true member of the crew. But this?</p><p>These were actual, <em>certified</em> Officers within the Imperial Armed Forces, at least one of whom came from a bloodline of traditional military service. These weren’t people who usually fit the bill for a traitor, and it painted a picture with worrying implication as to what was potentially going on here. Either they were all of the same motivation as Herst, in which case they painted a picture that cast the servants of the Empire in an especially horrific and utterly <em>petty</em> light, or—</p><p>Or they were the puppets of something larger, and much more sinister.</p><p>Piett honestly didn’t know which he preferred it to be. He honestly didn’t.</p><p>Perhaps it was a blessing then, that he didn’t have to know, as the chips would fall the way they did regardless of his preferences. His only task was to make sure they could fall unimpeded and that they were, regardless of it all, tallied when they all hit the ground.</p><p>To that end, he needed a few more men to ensure that this chip would fall just as the others, and not slip through the cracks.</p><p>Thankfully, when he turned up into the A-6 with Grace and Rocko at his back, he very nearly bumped into said men. A full squad of Troopers, marching down the oddly empty stretch of highway that ran through the starboard side of the Lady like an artery. A particularly low-pressure one at the moment, perhaps, but if there was any luck with these men, that would resolve itself soon enough. Gleaming white armor that spoke of their own allegiance to Lars, they were not likely going to be turning away this request, even if they strictly could.</p><p>‘Troopers!’ he called out to the marching men. ‘A word, if you would?’</p><p>The rearguard of the group turned around to face Piett and, upon seeing his rank, gestured for their fellows to stop too. The leader of the group, a Lieutenant, made his way to the forefront to greet Piett with a salute. ‘Captain Piett,’ he acknowledged, ‘What do you need our aid for?’</p><p>‘I have an objective to arrest one Commander Rotz,’ he answered, cutting directly to the chase. ‘I fear the confrontation will be far from smooth, however, and we need the Commander alive for questioning. I ask if you can spare two of your men for this task,’ he requested in a tone that left no interpretation of how much this was actually a request.</p><p>Thankfully, the Lieutenant seemed to get the message and jerked his head to the side at two of the Troopers. ‘Mich, Majesty, join the good Captain and make sure that the perp doesn’t slip. Majesty, you know the route. Make sure that Mich doesn’t end up in the brig again on the way back.’ Oh, well that sounded lovely. Now he’d at least know where headache number eighteen would be coming from.</p><p>‘Sure thing, sir,’ a deep voice answered from under the Trooper helmet designated as Majesty. ‘Come on, troublemaker,’ he said as he shoved at Mich’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’ Then he turned to Piett and nodded towards Rocko. ‘I see you already met her, sir,’ he noted easily, ‘So let me spare you the hassle and tell you the same rules apply to me as they do to her,’ he— <em>she</em> explained.</p><p>Mentally making a note, he offered a small smile to the woman. ‘Understood, Trooper,’ he acknowledged with a dip of his head, before glancing at Mich. ‘And you, Trooper Mich?’</p><p>‘Nah,’ Mich waved off easily. ‘Just the usual genetic template for me.’ A clone then, and male. Understood.</p><p>‘Then let us depart,’ he ordered, directing his focus to both the Troopers, ‘Trooper Grace and Rocko can fill the two of you in on the general situation, but our mission is to apprehend one of the traitors behind the sabotage aboard the Lady. One Commander Rotz, to be specific, and we are en route to his quarters as we’re speaking.’ The two newest additions to his small squad saluted at once, and immediately fell in line behind the two other Troopers, their vod’e turning to quietly explain what little info they had. Piett, meanwhile, turned back to face the Lieutenant and nodded sharply in gratitude. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ he offered sincerely, ‘We won’t hold up your squad any longer.’</p><p>‘It was no trouble, Captain,’ the Lieutenant dismissed as he saluted him. ‘And good luck finding the one responsible for the cowardly attack on our Armorer.’ With that, they made a few quick hand gestures to their squad, and the Troopers continued their roaming patrol, two members fewer.</p><p>Which left Piett and a group of four Troopers to apprehend the traitorous Commander. He sighed, and turned back to what was shaping up to be his own squad. ‘On our way, then,’ he told them as he hoped that this would be overkill for the arrest even as his intuition warned him of something off. ‘With the curfew in effect and our target a part of the day cycle shift, he should be in his quarters in the starboard Officers’ wing. And remember,’ he said sternly, giving every Trooper a flinty look, ‘We need him <em>alive.</em> For now, at least.’</p><p>‘Yes, sir!’ they chorused, and Piett hoped that the order would be enough to bring this to a satisfactory end.</p><p>With a final look at his squad, he spun around on his heel and veered sharply into one of the off-branching corridors of the A-6. They would need to rise several levels and get to the A-3 and take a railcar to get to the starboard Officers’ wing, which was, as all commissioned Officers’ quarters who didn’t belong to one of the many Corps of the navy, located relatively close to the bridge. Piett's own quarters were in the portside Officer’s wing that mirrored its starboard sister. He rarely had a reason to visit the starboard wing, beyond the usual check-up and a visit or two to his acquaintances housed there, and he found it rather a pity that one of those visits had to be on sure a grim occasion.</p><p>However, turning the corner into the local elevator station and giving their destination to the Troopers’ stationed there, Piett couldn’t help but think that of all the things he would be called there to do, delivering a man to what would undoubtedly be his death was likely one of the most extreme circumstance he could think of.</p><p>Stepping out of the elevator and into the rail station, the rest of the journey proceeded in near silence, with Piett gathering his thoughts while the Troopers quietly talked amongst themselves in the musical tones of Mando’a. Herst might still be in interrogation at this point, but he would hardly be surprised to learn that the man was no more either. Lord Vader, when his ire was roused, made short work of anyone foolish enough to cross his path or deny him his goals.</p><p>And now they had found another who had played the fool and lost the gamble. And Piett was tasked with delivering him right to his death.</p><p>It was hardly a new situation for him. Pirate hunting didn’t leave much to interpret about what the eventual fates of some of his worst captives had been, but he found it wise to make a habit out of taking a moment to remember the sentience of his opponents and those he was tasked with apprehending, regardless of their crimes or even the horror of their deeds.</p><p>Herst had been an Engineer aboard the Lady and, up until recently, had served well enough.</p><p>Rotz was his colleague and coworker and, despite both men’s elitism and repugnant personalities, he didn’t doubt they were human. He remembered their sentience as people.</p><p>And he also remembered that in spite of it, they had still chosen to commit a horrific act against an innocent young man for the grand crime of… being good at his job while being from the outer rim. For being favored. For being more than they could ever be.</p><p>They had chosen to mutilate a young man for life, out of simple jealousy and an inability to reconcile his success with their narrow worldviews. They had chosen this not out of some abstract evil, but out of simple, every day, petty human trifles.</p><p>And he remembered that the greatest monsters were a lot more like him than he would comfortably like them to be.</p><p>An odd habit, perhaps. But one that kept him on the straight and narrow while having to effectively govern thousands of lives each day. He was the Captain of the Lady, and first and foremost that meant that he was <em>responsible</em> for all those lives. And by all the many gods of the galaxy that he did and didn’t believe in, he would be <em>damned</em> before he ever lost sight of that fact. Even now, when he was tasked with delivering one of those lives to its doom, he had to remember that he was responsible to ensure that they wouldn’t hurt anyone again, and responsible to ensure that it happened as fairly and humanely as possible until… until the end.</p><p>The rail car groaned as it came to a halt, pulling into the station that would lead them to the Officers’ wing. Disembarking onto the platform with his small squad of Troopers in tow, Piett wondered how this all would go down.</p><p>Through the station lobby, into the A-3, and down one of the many side passageways, Piett still couldn’t shake the gut feeling that there was something wrong with all this. A feeling that persisted all the way until they entered the Officers’ wing and Piett walked up to the receptionist.</p><p>‘Excuse me, Ms.,’ he said politely as he called the woman’s attention towards him and away from the computer terminal where she seemed to have been fielding reports. ‘Could you point us towards Commander Rotz’s quarters?’</p><p>The woman eyed him and the four Troopers hovering ominously behind him with a raised eyebrow but offered no comment as she pulled up the residents list and began browsing the numbers. ‘Third floor, second hallway to your left,’ she eventually rattled off, giving Piett a bored look. ‘You’ll want to knock on door 311, sir. And please, whatever you plan on doing, don’t leave a mess for the janitorial staff to clean up. We get enough of the morgue as is.’</p><p>Not knowing in the slightest how to respond to that, Piett merely opted for a polite nod and a quiet, ‘Of course, Ms.,’ as he processed the implications she was making. Perhaps apathy really was a requirement for working the front desk as rumored.</p><p>‘If you need anything else, sir?’ she asked monotonously, her face perfectly conveying that it absolutely wouldn’t be welcome, and Piett was thankful that he didn’t actually need anything else.</p><p>‘No, Ms., thank you,’ he answered, and blinked as the receptionist’s eyes had already turned back to the computer screen before he had even finished talking. Well. That was as clear a dismissal as any.</p><p>Ignoring the snorts of some of the clones, Piett turned his head over his shoulder and jerked his head towards the internal elevators of the Officers’ wing. Fitting four, fully-armored Troopers into an elevator meant for Officers in simple cloth uniforms was… interesting, but with a bit of shuffling they all managed to fit in and proceed to the third floor.</p><p>The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and with a final breath, Piett stepped out and walked down the hallway towards the second corridor on the left, his rapid footsteps muffled by the carpeting on the floor.</p><p>One of the Troopers whistled lowly as they followed. ‘Damn, sir,’ Mich muttered, ‘You Officers have it plush here. I wouldn’t mind—’</p><p>‘Focus, Mich,’ Majesty interrupted sternly. ‘Remember what happened last time.’</p><p>‘Yeah, yeah,’ Mich dismissed casually, ‘But you gotta admit—’</p><p>‘Quiet,’ Rocko snapped, to the gratitude of Piett as they came to a halt in front of the door they were looking for. ‘We’re here.’</p><p>Piett glanced back and nodded in agreement. ‘On your guard,’ he instructed lowly, before turning back to the door, hearing the Troopers straighten up behind him and ready their weapons. Letting out a light breath, he pressed the intercom and buzzer at the side of the door. ‘Commander Rotz?’ he called, ‘This is Captain Piett. I ask that you please open this door, Commander.’</p><p>He waited several seconds, then several more, and tensed as he heard the Troopers behind him shift, agitated. No response. He activated the intercom again, letting the buzzer ring longer this time. ‘Commander Rotz, this is not optional,’ he informed the man, pitching his voice into something authoritative. ‘I ask that you open this door.’</p><p>Still no response, not even a whisper.</p><p>‘The hell is going on?’ Mich muttered. ‘He ought to have heard that.’</p><p>‘He should,’ Piett agreed lowly, as the bad feeling from earlier set low in his gut. Pressing the buzzer again, he decided to put some force behind his demands. ‘Commander Rotz, we know of your participation in the conspiracy to kill Engineer Lars,’ he told the man. ‘You are under arrest and I order that you open this door or we will do so by force.’</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>‘Something’s wrong,’ Grace muttered lowly, the man tensing as he sunk into a subconscious battle stance.</p><p>‘Agreed,’ Rocko muttered as she mirrored Grace.</p><p>‘Hold off for one moment longer,’ Piett instructed the both of them. Pressing the buzzer one final time, Piett channeled as much “don’t fuck with me, I’ve killed worse” into his voice as he could, making sheer steel out of his command. ‘Commander Rotz, this is your Captain speaking,’ he stated, voice as unshakable as the unquestionable truth of his statement. ‘I demand that you open this door at once, or we will open it by force. This is your last warning to cooperate and surrender yourself willingly. After this, you will be treated like a criminal at flight risk. Do not test me, Commander.’</p><p>Several long moments of absolutely nothing passed. Piett loosened his shoulder and felt steel in his spine. ‘Very well then,’ he said as he stepped away from the door. ‘Trooper Rocko?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘Please ram down this door.’</p><p>Rocko’s helmet snapped over to him and he didn’t need to see her face to register her disbelief. ‘What.’</p><p>‘The door, Trooper,’ he indicated patiently. ‘Please ram it down.’</p><p><em>‘Sir!?’ </em>Grace asked in shock.</p><p>Piett crossed his arms and fixed the Troopers with an annoyed look. ‘I have repeated myself once already, Trooper,’ he noted lightly, ‘I will do so only once more; please ram down this door. Your current armor should be more than sturdy enough to do so if I recall Engineer Lars’ presentations correctly.’</p><p>‘Aren’t we— aren’t we going to ask someone for the override codes!?’ Majesty asked, aghast.</p><p>Piett shot them all a flat glare. ‘No. Do I look like I have the patience for that?’ He didn’t. He <em>really</em> didn’t. ‘Now ram down that door, Trooper, that’s an <em>order,’</em> he instructed flatly.</p><p>Rocko stared at him silently for a moment before her helmet jerked as if startled. ‘Uh— yes, sir,’ she mumbled, sounding like she couldn’t really believe what she’d just been ordered to do. ‘Please stand back.’</p><p>Piett obliged, easily stepping a decent distance out of the way and Rocko took up position for a small running start to throw herself against the door. Bracing herself against the carpeted floor, Piett had to admire how Lars’ creation seemed to fortify itself as soon as Rocko took up a bracing position, the hard plates locking together at the interlocking sections across her arms, shoulders, and chest, making for one continuous hard surface ideal to deflect any number of impacts.</p><p>Like the impact of throwing oneself at a door at full speed.</p><p>With a kickoff against the ground, Rocko flew past them in a blur of white and black, too fast to track at such close distance, and an almighty shattering crash echoed through the hallway, undoubtedly alerting anyone in the immediate vicinity to what they had done. Well, at least he had the excuse of a curfew to order them all back to their quarters.</p><p>Staring at the hole that was once the door to 311, Piett felt rather impressed when he saw that Rocko had put enough force behind her dash to fully bend the door inwards. Rocko, whom he could hear stumbling to a halt inside and making a strangled noise.</p><p>‘Is everything alright, Trooper?’ he asked as he caught sight of Rocko’s form standing stock-still in the middle of the room.</p><p>‘I think,’ she began slowly, horror in her voice, ‘That I can see why the Commander wasn’t answering the door.’ With careful steps Piett watched her walk forward, and he through the opening he could see her approaching something like a desk.</p><p>‘Is it safe to enter?’ he called after her.</p><p>‘I— yeah, I think so, sir,’ she said, an odd edge to her voice. ‘I don’t— I don’t think the Commander could do anything to us anymore.’</p><p> Anything—?</p><p>Stepping into the room with quick strides, the other Troopers hot on his heels, he walked up to the Trooper. ‘Speak clearly, Trooper,’ he commanded, ‘What do you mean—’</p><p>And he cut himself off as he caught sight of what she was looking at.</p><p>There, slumped over his desk, was Commander Rotz, half-lidded eyes staring out dull and sightless into the world with distinctive dark brown spots in their sclera, complexion pale as the—</p><p>‘Dead,’ he heard himself state flatly.</p><p>‘Suicide,’ Rocko agreed as her helmet bobbed in a nod, gloved hand carefully reaching out to remove a small auto-injector from the man’s exposed upper arm. ‘Probably some kind of neurotoxin, since I can’t see any other kind of symptoms. No blood or foam at the mouth, no signs of spasming or struggle, no inflammation or other marks at the injection site beyond a pinprick. He would’ve been dead before he realized it.’</p><p>Piett heaved a heavy sigh, realizing that he should probably feel something, anything, besides annoyance and faint contempt. But fact remained that Rotz’s death meant exactly two things for them; that he was likely guilty, and that they weren’t getting any information out of them unless Lord Vader could somehow commune with the dead.</p><p>Pursing his lips as he looked down pensively at the corpse of his colleague, Piett felt some measure of dark humor as he prepared to give the order that he hadn’t had to utter in over half a year at this point, and it wasn’t even for the typical reasoning. ‘Trooper Grace,’ he ordered calmly, ‘Contact the morgue. Tell them to send a Coroner, someone who can act as a Forensic, and a cleanup team. We have another one for them to examine and register. A few hours dead at the very most.’</p><p>‘Yes, sir,’ came the acknowledgement from behind him, and the beeping of a comm told him his orders were being carried out. Looking a bit more closely at the body as he distantly heard Grace tell the morgue what was going on, he frowned as he pensively crossed his arms.</p><p>Whatever else this meant, there would be no further investigation along the lines of actual people unless Lord Vader managed to drag out any further names from Herst. As it stood, Rotz was dead, and with him, any potential information. Something that he was none too happy over, but that he didn’t doubt Lord Vader would find even less humor in.</p><p>Lord Vader…</p><p>He would have to contact his Commander, and explain his findings to him as soon as he could. Preferably now, rather than later.</p><p>Making up his mind with that thought at the forefront of it, he turned back to face the other Troopers. ‘Mich, Majesty,’ he barked, ‘Stand guard and ensure that no one else enters this room. Right now, this is a potential crime scene, and until the Forensics arrive to the conclusion that there was no foul play, we’ll treat it as such. Don’t let anyone by unless they have the proper authority to interact with a crime scene.’ The Troopers snapped off a salute each, and promptly marched out of the room. He watched them leave the room before turning back to Rocko. ‘Search the cabin for any signs of the conspiracy, any scrap of information on their actions and potential members, and report it back,’ he instructed.</p><p>‘And you, sir?’ she asked in return.</p><p>Piett grimaced as he thought of his next task at hand. ‘I will see if I can comm Lord Vader to inform him of this latest development in this situation,’ he told the Trooper, earning himself a sympathetic wince from Rocko as she nodded, before heading off to do her task.</p><p>Taking a few steps away from the corpse and into the seating area at the opposite end of the room, Piett fished out his comm and selected the most dreaded and yet, oftentimes the most productive number on there.</p><p>The comm beeped once, twice, and didn’t get the chance for a third time when it was picked up and the sounds of an ominously cycling respirator filtered into the room. ‘Captain Piett,’ the vocoder rumbled out of the comm. ‘What is your business?’</p><p>‘I’m… afraid I have bad news, my Lord,’ he informed the man apologetically. ‘We found Commander Rotz dead in his quarters, with suicide by neurotoxin as the likely cause.’ He breathed deeply and a cycled of the respirator passed before he could continue, and he swore that the room was a little colder when he did. ‘The morgue has been informed and the Troopers currently with me are searching for information on the conspiracy in the Commander’s quarters but—’</p><p>‘It is unlikely that the man would have been idiotic enough to keep any form of evidence, regardless of the questionable decision to commit an act of treason,’ Lord Vader finished with a growl, the comm crackling with static as it attempted to transmit the sound. ‘Yes, I see your issue, Captain.’</p><p>Piett swallowed as he nodded, even as he knew that the man wouldn’t be able to see him. Or thought that Vader couldn’t see him, anyway. ‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ he muttered apologetically, ‘But I am afraid the trail has run cold unless Herst confessed anything else—?’</p><p>‘He did not,’ Lord Vader replied tersely, irritation clear in every syllable. ‘All his contact information went through Commander Rotz. He himself never even knew who wished to arrange for Luke's demise aside from the Commander.’</p><p>Piett wracked his brain for any further possibilities, and tentatively suggested, ‘And if we cross-referenced his confession with Rotz’s schedule or known acquaintances, my Lord? We could place an inquiry with security as to Rotz’s whereabouts these last few days to see if there was anyone he met up with?’</p><p>‘A possibility, but unlikely, Captain,’ the dark Lord dismissed. ‘According to Herst, he and Rotz communicated nearly exclusively through their comms, at which point the records of each conversation were deleted afterwards. The idea that any less caution would be used to discuss the assassination attempt with each other and not just the would-be assassin is doubtful to the highest degree.’</p><p>Damn it. Well, there went that option.</p><p>‘I do not suggest not requesting the data, Captain,’ his Lord clarified. ‘Unlikely though it may be, it is a possibility. But I advise not to rest too much hope on the results of said inquiries.’</p><p>Piett sighed, and knew that the man was right. ‘As you say, my Lord,’ he agreed, ‘I will place the inquiries and—’</p><p>‘Will do so tomorrow,’ Lord Vader cut in easily, finishing Piett's sentence in a manner he’d definitely not expected.</p><p>Blinking in befuddlement at this comm, Piett thought for a moment that it really had been too long a day if he was imagining his Lordship saying such things. ‘Beg your pardon, my Lord?’</p><p>‘You will do so tomorrow, Captain,’ the vocoder repeated, rumbling lowly. ‘If you had not realized yet, your shift ended three hours ago.’</p><p>What? ‘But— my Lord,’ he protested, ‘The investigation—’</p><p>‘No longer has any time sensitive issues,’ Lord Vader countered. ‘Finish your current task, Captain, cooperate with the Coroner and Forensics as far as your role will extend, but unless a new lead shows itself, you <em>will</em> end your shift. Exhaustion makes for poor work and poorer reasoning. Neither of which we can afford.’</p><p><em>My Lord, I am not Lars,</em> Piett thought half-hysterically, but wisely kept that shut inside his mind, never to see the light of day. Instead, he said, ‘Yes, my Lord. And what of yourself?’</p><p>‘And what of me, Captain?’ the man asked evenly, and in that moment Piett realized that Lord Vader was exactly right about how exhausted he was, since apparently, he had somehow decided it was a wise idea to question his Lordship.</p><p>‘I— I merely meant to ask whether you will be ending your tasks for the day as well, my Lord?’ he stammered out.</p><p>The comm crackled with a static Piett had no idea how to interpret, but that set the hairs on his neck on end and made his mind freeze up. Thankfully, it cleared up soon enough in favor of his Lordship's voice. ‘I will be returning to the medical wing, Captain,’ the man told him, and Piett heard what was truly being said here, ‘And relieving the current guards of their duty for the night.’</p><p>‘Very well, my Lord,’ he acknowledged, ‘As you say. I will contact you tomorrow when I have placed the inquiries then and cross-referenced them with Herst himself—’</p><p>‘That will not be possible, Captain,’ the vocoder rumbled in a crackle over the comm. ‘Herst was disposed of in a suitable manner befitting a traitor half an hour ago. His confession, however, was extensive and detailed. You will be able to use the records of those.’</p><p>Ah. Right. ‘Of course, my Lord,’ he agreed. ‘Is there anything else I should be aware of, proceeding forward?’</p><p>‘Nothing that you will not be able to see for yourself in the records, Captain,’ Lord Vader dismissed. ‘As for now, I believe you have an investigation to continue and an interview to give to the Forensics.’</p><p>Interview? Piett was about to open his mind for questions when Majesty poked her head around the corner. ‘Sir, the people from the morgue have arrived and they’re asking if they can speak to you. Are you finished with your report to his Lordship?’</p><p>Gaping at the Trooper and the comm in rapid succession, he once more heard that horrific static sound that wore on Piett's nerves. ‘Answer the question, Captain,’ Lord Vader chided. ‘Are you?’</p><p>‘I— yes, I—' he stammered out, in full disbelief on what he had just witnessed. How had the man known—?</p><p>‘Then I suggest you proceed with your orders and then end your shift, Captain,’ Lord Vader rumbled. ‘Dismissed.’</p><p>With that, the comm beeped once as the call ended and Piett was left staring at the unresponsive comm in his hand. Had that just— did that just really <em>happen?</em></p><p>‘Sir, are you alright?’ Majesty asked, still hanging around the corner of the destroyed door.</p><p>‘I— am uncertain on that statement, Trooper,’ he admitted, before gathering back his composure. ‘But I believe so, yes. What was your question again?’</p><p>‘The people from the morgue are here and asking to talk to you,’ she repeated effortlessly. ‘Are you ready to do so, Captain?’</p><p><em>No</em>. ‘Yes, I’ll be there shortly.’</p><p>Majesty nodded her head and disappeared back around the corner, presumably to inform the Coroner and Forensics and whatnot of his answer, and Piett took the moment for two second to compose himself.</p><p>Herst was dead. He’d known this would happen, and yet, it was an irritation now that his immediate contact in the conspiracy had turned up dead by his own hand to, if Piett had to take an educated guess, avoid a similar fate as Herst. But both men were dead and there was nothing to be done about it. He would just have to make do in his investigation and make the inquiries, hoping that something would turn up.</p><p>Tomorrow, that is. Because Lord Vader had essentially ordered him to rest, and while that wasn’t completely unheard of, it was still jarring now that he knew with the demonstration on Lars that it could actually be— that it might <em>actually be—</em></p><p>He shut that train of thought down before it could arrive. The idea that his Lordship could care was perhaps no longer a whimsical fantasy, but it certainly was a dangerous idea to start thinking it might also apply to himself. No, it was better to just… not think about it and follow his orders to end his shift without any further thoughts attached to it.</p><p>Which… wasn’t a wholly unobjectionable thought, really. Not when compared to having to continue to work on this impossible, horrific case that seemed to twist deeper and darker the more he prodded at it.</p><p>If nothing else, he would finally be able to have that drink.</p><p>Sighing and shaking his head, Piett began to make his way over to the door, the two seconds gone and the world spinning once more. But even as he brought his thoughts back in order to attempt to form a coherent narrative for the Forensics and Coroner, the thought lingered in the back of his mind.</p><p>After all, it wasn’t every day that you got a hint that the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces might care.</p><p><em>And there were even less days,</em> Piett thought as he recalled where his Commander was heading once more, <em>when it pointed to him perhaps having a heart after all.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dead ends, dead ends all around! Ah, how will our intrepid anti-heroes catch the traitors now? We'll find out soon enough. Join me next week for the second part of this three part thriller, as we begin to uncover the rot that lies within the Lady. And see the first glimpses of how it'll be dealt with. See you all next Sunday, and until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Life Will Devour You Like The Ocean Tide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The morning of the surgery is here, but as will soon become clear, today's spilt blood won't only be on a scalpel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are, ladies, gents, and honors! I advise that you hold on to your seats, because this? This is a rough one. And it's not the last. If last chapter was the start of the rollercoaster, this is the peak before the drop. Subsequently, it has a longer trigger list than normal, as Vader does what he does best.</p>
<p>Oh yes. We have arrived at <i>that</i> part of the story. Prepare to lose your shit.</p>
<p>
  <b>The Trigger List:</b>
</p>
<ol>
<li>Discussions of surgery</li>
<li>Descriptions of someone being influenced by anesthetics</li>
<li><b>Disturbingly insensitive mention last chapter's suicide</b></li>
<li>Mob mentality</li>
<li>Hysteria</li>
<li><b>Graphic descriptions of executions</b></li>
<li>Vader</li>

None of this is hyperbole, and I advise you to be more cautious of your own mental health than ever in this chapter and the next. This is the part where shit goes <i>down.</i> Nonetheless, enjoy.</ol></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To most people, the recovery ward would seem quiet and dark, with only the occasional beep or blip to break the silent darkness of the night cycle.</p>
<p>To Darth Vader, the recovery ward was a symphony of song and stars as Force rang with the notes of the brightest harmony he could ever recall hearing.</p>
<p>Sitting on the too-small chair in deep meditation, he had never been so grateful as now that he no longer actually needed to (or even strictly <em>could</em>) sleep anymore, for meditation allowed enough to rest his mind and body to sustain him. He had hated this fact for much of his miserable existence as a black wraith of death, to be unleashed upon the galaxy as his Master saw fit, but adored more than anything now, as for the first time in his living memory, he was no longer <em>alone</em> in his mind space.</p>
<p>Luke. Bright, brilliant, shining Luke, was there too. A little star who didn’t wish hide from him behind shields or flinched at his very presence near his mind space, but who burrowed deeper and deeper into the core of his psyche until he had made a Home in Vader's heart that he was loathe to be removed from. Not that Vader wanted to. Sitting still and silent in the recovery ward, his Home sleeping deeply only an arm’s length away from him, Vader finally found his own joy in sinking deep into meditation and rest.</p>
<p>A meditation filled with the contented and restful song of an iridescent star.</p>
<p>It might be a folly of the highest order to think it, but as he curled around Luke's presence, so warm and light and filled with happiness, he thought that he could get used to this.</p>
<p>He likely wouldn’t be able to, Home or not, there was little use in hoping that Luke would always be as content in a bed of darkness as Vader was with a nightlight of stars, but it was a… kind dream. Like the ones he used to have when he was young, and the world was simpler. It was a dream that didn’t make him wearily pray for the morning to come so that it might end, and instead made him hold tight to every second of the night for just a moment more of <em>this</em>. For just a moment more of quiet company.</p>
<p>The night passed like this in utter contentment, he and Luke singing in call and response within the Force, the very air around them rippling with the deep, rolling thunder of his own signature and the sweet, crystalline chimes of Luke. A harmony of opposites, so perfectly in tune. A lullaby for a weary soul.</p>
<p>The night slipped away between the gaps of their song, and before he knew it, the Force in the recovery ward once more began to hum with the waking awareness of the staff coming in for the day cycle shifts. The lights slowly came back up with the ward, brightening in accordance to the sunrise that would be taking place right now over the Imperial Palace, and Luke began to slowly shift in his bed of heartstrings and night.</p>
<p>Allowing the child to wake up but unwilling to hasten the process, Vader was slow to back out of his own meditative state as well, merely watching in quiet fascination as Luke's presence rippled and shivered with each passing pulse of awareness. Bleary chirps loudened into happy hums as he became aware of his surroundings, occasionally making an irritable peep as a wave of sleepiness dragged the little star back down into unconsciousness. It took more effort than he had expected to not jostle his Home with his own laughter at the child’s sleepy antics, but it was… truly endearing to watch Luke do something as mundane, and apparently as difficult, as waking up.</p>
<p>And though the child was as stubborn in sleep as in waking, soon enough Vader felt the little star slip out of his grasp once more and into the waking world, his own eyes opening just in time to witness Luke awakening to the world once more.</p>
<p>Blinking blearily against the lights above him, Vader could only laugh silently as a mutinous pulse of indignation and sheer refusal made itself known in the Force, the child resolutely turning around in his bed as he pulled the sheets up over his head with a sleepy grumble until he resembled nothing so much as a grouchy pile of blankets and pillows with only a few light strands of hair sticking out over the edge.</p>
<p>‘May the Suns bless your day, little one,’ he greeted fondly, with laughter in his tone. ‘Welcome back to the waking world.’</p>
<p>The pile of blankets made a sound of denial that sounded for all the world like, ‘Mmrro.’</p>
<p>‘No?’ he asked, content to tease the slowly awakening youth who was clearly resentful of the fact that it was a process he was experiencing at all.</p>
<p>‘S too early,’ the pile of blankets and pillows mumbled. ‘M still tired.’</p>
<p>Ah. ‘Perhaps that has something to do with your insistence on going to sleep too late while you are still recovering from a grave injury?’ he suggested lightly. ‘As I told you yesterday evening.’</p>
<p>‘Don’ say “I tol’ you so,”’ Luke complained, voice still muffled by all the blankets. ‘‘S annoying.’</p>
<p>He laughed quietly and laid a hand on the blanket where he approximated Luke's shoulder was, the mound under the blanket humming happily at the contact, the Force alight with chimes of contentment interspersed with annoyance. ‘Perhaps so,’ he agreed with the child’s statement, ‘But I believe I can stand to be obnoxious for the moment to remind you that I warned you staying up so late would have consequences in the morning. And I am afraid you cannot go back to sleep, little one, as the Medics will come to prepare you for your surgery in little less than one and a half hours.’</p>
<p>Luke made a long, wounded noise of protest and despair, and Vader didn’t think he had needed to restrain this much laughter in a long while. <em>Impossible</em> child.</p>
<p>‘Don’ wanna,’ Luke complained. ‘Wanna sleep.’</p>
<p>‘You will be able to sleep during the surgery?’ Vader suggested.</p>
<p>‘Not the same,’ Luke denied with a grumble. ‘I’ll wake up an’ be diff’nt again.’</p>
<p>Oh. ‘It will not be as drastic as you think, little one,’ he attempted to reassure quietly. ‘The only neural-connection port of any significant size will be the one that will anchor your prothesis to the bones within your forearm. The others are barely any larger than a pinhead.’</p>
<p>That sent sparks of curiosity raining throughout the Force like falling stars, the sock of light hair popping out from its little hiding hole as two huge eyes looked at him with fascination and hope. ‘Really?’ a small voice asked from within the blankets.</p>
<p>Ah, so that had been the source of the little star’s reluctance to awaken. ‘Yes, really,’ he confirmed. ‘Or at the very least, that is what I remember of my last foray into the advancements of protheses. I do not doubt that Medicine has advanced since then and they will be even less obtrusive now.’ He stroked lightly through the child’s sleep mused hair, and felt his heart swell as his Home hummed happily. ‘There is nothing to fear, little one. When you awaken, you will be just as you are now, with only a minor addition to facilitate further connections.’</p>
<p>Luke was quiet for a moment, and Vader noted with some surprise that the sparks of curiosity were as bright and numerous as ever, glittering in the air. ‘And… what about my prosthesis?’ Luke asked with a small voice. ‘When— when will I be able to get it then?’</p>
<p>‘Once the design is complete and suitable for production,’ he answered promptly, mind going back to the schematic saved on his own datapad. ‘It will take me a bit more time to complete it, what with my other tasks—'</p>
<p>‘Wait!’ Luke yelled, bolting upright with wide eyes. <em>‘You</em> are designing my prothesis!?’</p>
<p>Blinking at the sudden outburst, Vader reared back slightly as the child stared at him with a shocked intensity he had little idea of what to do with. ‘I— well, yes,’ he said, roundly caught off guard, ‘I am the foremost individual aboard this ship with experience in both engineering and prosthesis and I—’ Just thought that perhaps the child would accept something made by cursed hands. Would accept—</p>
<p>It didn’t matter. It had been a selfish thought in either case, one he had foolishly given into because the little star had so often indulged his selfish whims. He’d forgotten what it meant to go too far, and he supposed that a reminder had been long overdue.</p>
<p>He sighed and readjusted himself in his chair. ‘Of course, I will cede all control of the project over to someone of your own choosing if you wish, and I— <em>wha—!’</em> He had a split-second warning as the Dark chimed with something that was nearly <em>mischief</em>, and then Luke knocked into his chest at full speed, missing the control panel only barely in a move that had him experiencing a powerful sense of déjà vu.</p>
<p>But the Force sung with happiness and Luke was hugging himself tightly into Vader's form and he found that he hardly minded it at all that he had been caught off-guard by the same maneuver twice. Even less so when Luke hugged him even tighter until he could feel it through even the thicker parts of his armor and the child softly whispered, <em>‘Thank you.’</em></p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Bringing up his own arms around his Home and reciprocating the embrace as best he could, he thought that if this were to become a usual happening, he would cherish it until the stars went out.</p>
<p>‘It is no trouble, little star,’ he muttered back, clutching the child close once more in a manner that he would never tire of. ‘I was… happy to do so.’</p>
<p>Luke laughed softly into the crook of his neck, joy and gratitude spiraling through the air in dizzying patterns that left Vader feeling as lightheaded as if he had had to breathe without his respirator, and yet, he had rarely felt better. ‘Still,’ the child mumbled, ‘Thank you. I— you have no idea what this means to me.’</p>
<p>‘Perhaps,’ he murmured back as he once more carded a hand through Luke's hair, ‘But I may have <em>some</em> clue as to it nonetheless.’</p>
<p>Luke laughed softly again, and slowly pulled back, resettling on the edge of his bed and smiling up at Vader as he wiped away a few tears at the corner of his eyes. ‘Probably, yeah,’ he agreed with a huff of laughter. ‘I just— I didn’t think—’</p>
<p>‘That a prosthesis would be provided for you?’ Vader suggested knowingly, a memory from a lifetime ago resurfacing on its own and being shoved away just as quickly.</p>
<p>Luke glanced up at him over the edge of his sleeve with wide, startled eyes and nodded sheepishly. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he muttered, ‘I just… didn’t think I would just be <em>given</em> one. Dunno why.’</p>
<p>‘Considering where you grew up, little one?’ he said softly, ‘I would think it a very normal thought indeed. But for all that you are used to it being otherwise, you must understand that the Empire looks after its subjects, and you will not be the first or the last person aboard the Lady to receive a prosthesis at no expense.’</p>
<p>‘You mean <em>you</em> look after them,’ Luke corrected with a hint of a smile.</p>
<p>‘The Empire, Luke, it is standard policy for servants of the Empire to receive coverage for any medical attention and devices they might need,’ he refuted gently, but the child was already shaking his head.</p>
<p>‘Would Tarkin provide Stormtroopers with neural-connected prostheses as a matter of course?’ Luke asked pointedly, a knowing look in his eyes. ‘I saw the pamphlets for the support group aboard the Lady, Vader,’ he told the man quietly. ‘There were a lot of Stormtroopers and your average Crewmates in it, all with neural-connected prostheses. Tell me, would someone like Tarkin, or even the emperor, provide a normal, run-of-the-mill Stormtroopers with a high-end prosthesis?’</p>
<p>And that— well, n—</p>
<p>‘It does not matter,’ he deflected brusquely, looking away from too knowing and too questioning eyes as he buried the answer to that question somewhere deep down.</p>
<p>‘Doesn’t it?’ Luke asked lightly, innocently. ‘If they won’t provide the rank-and-file with those prostheses and you will, doesn’t that say something?’</p>
<p>‘It…’ he trailed off as he grasped for answers, mind coming up frustratingly empty, ‘It is more complicated than that, little one,’ he answered in the end, even as he himself wouldn’t quite be able to explain how. ‘We are getting off-topic in either case,’ he hastily added on before the child could make any further inquiries. ‘We were discussing your prothesis, not those of everyone within the Empire’s employ.’</p>
<p>Luke shot him a significant look, but relented after a moment, much to Vader's relief. ‘Of course,’ he agreed easily, and then, much more shyly, ‘Can I see the design so far?’</p>
<p><em>No.</em> It wasn’t finished. It was far from good enough. It was— ‘Of course, little one,’ he agreed as he picked up the datapad from the nightstand. ‘It… is far from finished,’ he warned, ‘But you should be able to get a general feeling for the design.’</p>
<p>Pulling up the design file and activating the holoprojector, he let the model of a prosthetic hand and forearm slowly spin in the air as he handed over the pad to Luke, the little star eagerly taking it as he looked with wide, gleaming eyes at the design that, hopefully, would be deemed acceptable enough to become a part of him.</p>
<p>Looking over the projection himself, he had to admit that it was certainly some of his finer work. With delicate machinery and painstaking details modeled in to render the hand nearly indistinguishable from a true flesh and blood hand at first, second, and perhaps even third glance. It would blend in seamlessly, and the sensors packed into the synthskin would allow for sensory input, perhaps not on par with organic senses, but certainly as closely as was possible. All it all, it would be a worthy design for his Home.</p>
<p>A worthy design, if only it hadn’t made a flash of disappointment cross the child’s face before being buried just as quickly, though in the Force there was no hiding the saddened sting of disappointment.</p>
<p>‘Is there… something amiss with the design, little one?’ he asked, anxieties beginning to stab at his insides. ‘You must be aware that it is as of yet unfinished and—’</p>
<p>‘Hm?’ Luke's eyes snapped upwards and quickly widened as realization shot through both his expression and the Force-like lightning. ‘Oh! No, it’s fine!’ he hurried to reassure. ‘Really! I just— well, I— never mind,’ he quickly cut off. ‘It was a silly thing to notice, really.’ He quickly shook his head and smiled at Vader, who was feeling the anxieties worse than ever even as Luke attempted to reassure him. ‘I love it, truly.’</p>
<p>Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. ‘Little one,’ he chided, ‘You know you need not hide your opinion here.’ Please, let him know at the very least that. If for no other reason than that this would be a medical device attached to his very body. ‘If the systems are not to your liking, they can be changed, but I assure you that they are—’</p>
<p>‘It’s not the systems!’ Luke blurted out, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as he realized he had spoken out loud. ‘Sorry,’ mumbled, words muffled by the hand.</p>
<p>‘Little one, please,’ he implored. ‘I cannot change it, if you do not tell me what it is. Please, just speak your mind.’</p>
<p>Luke fidgeted in place as his gaze darted from the design to the blankets to him and back again. ‘I— well…’ he faltered, ‘I just— I’d hoped it would look a bit more— a bit more like yours,’ Luke mumbled.</p>
<p>He couldn’t have heard that right. ‘Pardon?’</p>
<p>Luke glanced up at him and, even as he winced, repeated the statement a bit louder. ‘I said, I had hoped it would look a bit more like— like yours,’ he admitted, before looking back down at the blanket. ‘Like I said,’ he muttered, ‘It’s stupid.’</p>
<p><em>Far from it,</em> is what Vader wished he would have said, but currently his mind had dropped some fifty levels down and was struggling to comprehend what it had just heard. ‘Like… mine?’</p>
<p>Luke flushed a deep red and nodded, embarrassment flaring in the Force. ‘I just… I don’t know, I just hoped it would be,’ the little star mumbled towards the ground. ‘The metal, the mechanics, the otherness of it all. I’d hoped that, well, if I did have to a prosthesis, it could look, I don’t know, a bit more—’ he shrugged and made a vague gesture that Vader interpreted to mean everything that his prosthesis was and Luke's currently designed one wasn’t and that—</p>
<p>His Home wanted a prothesis like his.</p>
<p>How, in the Name of the Force, was he meant to process that?</p>
<p>‘I— Luke,’ he began, but quickly drifted off, not knowing in the slightest how to continue that sentence. How did one explain to a child that one was not to be emulated? That one’s form was not to be admired? His prostheses looked the way they did because they were constructed for brute force and nothing else, only capable of gentleness with guidance from the Force. Luke's prosthesis should not have such an association. It should be associated with all that a prothesis <em>should</em> be; nimble, strong, dexterous, and comfortable. Those were the things that Luke would need to associate with his prothesis. Not— not <em>him.</em></p>
<p>But it was too late now, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>Would he tell Luke that his wishes were not appropriate? That what he wished for <em>his</em> prosthesis to look like was wrong? Would he discourage Luke from wanting what he wanted?</p>
<p>Force, he was truly going soft.</p>
<p>He sighed, quietly enough that his vocoder wouldn’t pick up on the sound, and reached out for the datapad. ‘Something a bit more like mine, hm?’ he muttered as he opened the editing screen and picked up the stylus.</p>
<p>Mechanical and strange. Metal and plastisteel. Organic lines in artificial material.</p>
<p>But something distinctly <em>Luke.</em></p>
<p>Something that would fit the child rather than a cold and impersonal copy of his own prostheses. Something different…</p>
<p>With slow strokes of the stylus, he began to change the padding used to simulate muscles into curved plates of steel, synthskin to a glossy layer of enamel. Sinking into the mindspace of design and creation that he so rarely had the time or will to indulge in anymore, the prosthesis changed before his eyes from something as close to real as possible with current technology to something distinctly… hybridized. Organic lines in artificial material. Something <em>new.</em></p>
<p>Taking his stylus off the datapad, he took a moment to analyze his work. Frankly speaking, it looked like no prosthesis he had ever seen before, not even his own when it had still been something more than the bare-bones utilitarianism of his current designs. It straddled the line between realistic and mechanical, with not a wire or servo exposed and all the mechanics hidden under the curved plates that made up the outer layer of the prosthesis. Every curve and line served to further create the shape so much like an organic limb, but with the gaps and grooves of where the hard plates fit together, it wouldn’t be hard to see even from a distance that the limb was far from natural.</p>
<p>Narrowing his eyes as he tilted his head to get a better look at the design in its entirety, he couldn’t help but think that there was something still… missing. As it stood now, the design was bare and the dull, grey-ish hue of durasteel. That… wouldn’t do. Not for Luke.</p>
<p>He couldn’t exactly see colors anymore through the lenses, but he still had the Force. Selecting the color wheel, he slowly adjusted the values of the settings as he attempted to visualize them in his head without the permanent red hue over everything, the Dark slowly guiding him along as he felt the little star’s awe and excitement slowly building around him into a castle of light.</p>
<p>Releasing the color value for blue, he looked at the shade that made the Force sing with something good and <em>right.</em> It was light, so very, very light, and a glance at the name for the color told him it was classified as “porcelain white.” Tilting his head at the color that he’d been guided to, he tried to visualize where he could be meant to apply it and was struck with an idea.</p>
<p>Selecting the layer on the hard panel covering for the prosthesis just under the gloss layer, he began to apply the color in slow, methodical strokes. It looked somewhat off to him, but once the color had been applied, it already looked much better than the original design.</p>
<p>Selecting the color wheel once more, he repeated the process until he came to the color labeled “brass.” Looking over the design for where the accent colors would need applying, and, with careful precision, selecting the places where the underlying structure of the prosthesis was visible between the hard plates, he began applying the accent color. Gaps in the wrist, around the knuckles, in the creases of the palm. Everywhere the hard plates gave way he added a small bit of polished brass into the design until it was… nearly finished.</p>
<p>Rumbling deep in his chest, he tapped the stylus against the side of the datapad. The design was, ostensibly, finished, but it didn’t much feel like it. It was too… too <em>clean.</em> Too manufactured. He couldn’t yet look at it and think <em>Luke.</em></p>
<p>It needed just a bit more… wildness. Something untamed and impossible and—</p>
<p>
  <em>Desert.</em>
</p>
<p>The realization struck something within him that chimed like a bell, and as the memories of swirling sand and searing suns whipped up into his mind like a storm, he knew what the design was missing.</p>
<p>Tapping the engraving tool, he configured the hard plates to detach from the main design and, with hands guided by the whispering of the Force and the excited chattering of the Dark, he laid down the lines of stories half buried in the dust of ages.</p>
<p>Luke. <em>Lukkesh. </em>Blessing of the Storm.  A Name for those who would face adversity with a smile and walked the Storm with laugh. A Name for those whose Freedom would never be tarnished. A Name of those who would carry out the Will of Keshtra, the Sacred Storm of Sand.</p>
<p>A Name for a runner.</p>
<p>A Name of someone born to air and wind.</p>
<p>A Name befitting the little star.</p>
<p>Old stories of the Storm that hid the Children as they took their Freedom filled his mind, the very Dark around him coming to life with something strange and unfamiliar as he worked, each line of wind and air engraved a note into a symphony of windchimes and flutes. A Song of the Wind. An Ode to the Storm.</p>
<p>The stylus drifted over the screen with barely any input of his own, his hand guided in every stroke and line by <em>something</em> that was warm with the memories of remembered sunlight and the stories of runners, those who chose to walk the way of Keshtra, who held their wings granted to them by the Storm out over the heads of their Siblings. Heroes who ran the Flightpaths time and time again with countless souls under their guard, guiding them to Freedom and a new life. Who fought the Masters and beat them at their own game, all for the sake of another.</p>
<p>With every new stroke the lines drifted closer together into a familiar design. The Star Paths run by the First Runner, the winds sent by the Sandstorm to guide their way, and the wings granted to those who chose to walk the harsh and unforgiving path of Storm, regardless of the perils it held.</p>
<p>The stylus came to a halt without his input, and shaking off the haze of sunlight and mirages, he looked at the design in front of him. Thin lines covered the plating in intricate patterns, delicate grooves that told the story no book would ever record. In long, intricate swirls lined with dots, the Sandstorm blew across the forearm, buffeting two wings made of nothing but air and open outlines, rising up towards the star chart engraved on the back of the hand, the three Moons and Twin Suns watching over all from the back of every fingertip. An engraving that told the story of the brave youth it would become a part of.</p>
<p>Finalizing the engraving, he realized that there was only one color that would be fit to highlight the grooves running across the length and breadth of the arm. Selecting the color wheel one final time, he adjusted the values until a pale, familiar color showed itself. With “desert sand” as the color in his brush, he filled in the engraving grooves with one, sweeping stroke. There. Finished.</p>
<p>Setting down the stylus, he finalized the design, and with a click of a button and a flash of the holoprojector, the new, and hopefully improved, design spun into the air.</p>
<p>A soft gasp rang out through the air, and jerking his head upwards to the source, he was struck by how he never knew that his designs could inspire such awe in someone.</p>
<p>With wide, watery eyes, and a hand clasped over an open mouth, Luke gazed upon the result of Vader's small bout of… madness? Creativity? Was there even any significant difference? He hoped so. And he hoped it would be enough for the design to win the heart of whom would have to approve it.</p>
<p>Laying the datapad carefully out on the bed to stabilize the projection, he watched as Luke hesitantly reached out towards it with his hand, spinning the projection with careful swipes as he took in every detail. Shifting a bit in nervous anticipation, Vader tilted his head at the little star in askance. ‘Is… this more to your liking, little one?’ he asked hesitantly.</p>
<p>Luke's eyes snapped over to Vader from the projection in front of him, and like the dawning of the Suns, Luke's face lit up into a brilliant, disbelieving smile. Gaze darting back and forth between the design and Vader, he slowly shook his head, smile never leaving his face. ‘I— it’s everything I hoped for,’ he whispered quietly.</p>
<p>The Dark chimed out a happy warning, and this time Vader was prepared for the child when Luke once again launched into an embrace, catching the little star handily and holding him close as Luke once more pressed his face into the crook of his neck. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, ‘As many times as the Moons ever watched over me, <em>thank you.’</em></p>
<p>He— well, he—</p>
<p>Huffing out a breath as he felt heat sting his cheeks, Vader nudged the side of his head softly against Luke in an awkward gesture of affection and responded in the only way he knew how. ‘And may they always guide you back to me when you need aid once more,’ he muttered back quietly. ‘It was my honor, little one, truly.’</p>
<p>Luke made a soft sound, and when he pulled back slightly, he still smiled just as brightly when he looked at the design again, laughing softly. ‘I love it,’ he told Vader quietly. ‘Everything about it. It’s just— It’s <em>me</em> in a way I can’t really explain and you just— you just <em>made</em> that and—’ He looked back with a beaming smile. <em>‘Thank you.’</em></p>
<p>Heat burned even hotter in his face as the little star once more expressed a gratitude so sincere, he didn’t quite know what to do with it. ‘I… take it you approve the appearance for production then, little one?’ he asked quietly, not knowing what else to say.</p>
<p>Luke huffed out a laugh as he wiped at his eyes, nodding. ‘Yeah, no doubt about it.’</p>
<p>‘Then I shall endeavor to fine tune the systems as soon as possible and deliver you the finished product,’ he promised, already thinking of when he would be able to squeeze in a couple of hours to work on the design. There were still some issues of mobility and strength to speak of. Luke was an Engineer, and he didn’t doubt that the child would be delighted if his new limb would be able to take over the function of a few of his tools. It would take a bit more work to integrate the systems however and—</p>
<p>‘Can— Can I see?’ Luke asked shyly, startling Vader out of his thoughts. ‘Maybe I can help a bit?’</p>
<p>‘Of course,’ he agreed, even as he wanted to hide the deeper design far away from prying eyes. ‘You will need to know the systems if you are to maintain them anyway.’ But Luke was a brilliant Engineer, and it had been too long since they had the opportunity to talk mechanics together. To ask him to resist was to ask him to be a stronger man than he could possibly be.</p>
<p>Opening up the hand to put the internal systems on display, he immediately identified the trouble spots he had been working away on for the last few days whenever he had a bit of time. The servos in the joints of the fingers, the ports that would connect to the ulna and the radius, the—</p>
<p>Luke whistled lowly, his eyes sweeping over the systems now laid bare within the projection. ‘Whoa,’ he muttered. ‘I— this is some serious stuff.’ He passed a hand along the projection and Vader watched in fascination as the little star began to pick at some of the systems.</p>
<p>He chuckled lightly as Luke stared at some of the more subtle innovations he had managed within the mechanics of the hand. ‘But of course,’ he rumbled, a touch of humor to his tone. ‘Did you think I would deliver you substandard work?’</p>
<p>‘What— no!’ Luke's eyes shot up like those of a startled animal, the chiming alarm bells in Force touched with the innocent wish to not offend and Vader couldn’t have stopped the laughter if he tried. Shoulder shaking lightly with laughter, he watched as realization dawned on Luke's face and the startled wide eyes narrowed into an annoyed pout. ‘Oh, <em>ha ha, </em>very funny.’</p>
<p>‘It very much was,’ he agreed lightly. ‘Force, child,’ he chuckled, ‘You truly are a treasure.’</p>
<p>Luke made a grumbling sound and pouted for a moment longer, much to his own mirth, until the lure of mechanics evidently became too strong to resist in favor of maintaining his offended airs. Poking and prodding at the design, Vader watched with silently as Luke delightedly went to work analyzing every last corner of the hand, humming happily and occasionally making a confused sound when he encountered something he didn’t quite immediately understand the purpose of, often shortly followed by a triumphant sound when he worked out its function.</p>
<p>It was sheer joy to watch, and he had nearly forgotten that they were supposed to be working on furthering the design when Luke made a victorious sound and enlarged a particular part of the design. ‘What if you changed the alloy here from duranium to turanium?’</p>
<p>Vader blinked at the sudden shift in Luke's demeanor and leaned in to see where the child was pointing. One of the connector ports for the central nerves. He had had trouble getting them to the performance level he wanted without adding undue bulk to the delicate ports, but so far, he had hit a block. ‘Elaborate, if you would, little one?’ he asked while spinning the design to get a better view on the port Luke was suggesting.</p>
<p>‘I mean, just think about it,’ Luke said as he tilted the design a bit. ‘I see you flagged the piece as too large, right? Well, what if we changed the alloy? Turanium may be more difficult to work with than even duranium, but if we use the printer and a microscope-guided grinder, it would allow for much thinner components than duranium would ever get you. The only issue is the high melting point, but if you use the printer, the laser just takes care of that.’</p>
<p><em>E chu ta!</em> He had forgotten about the printers again!</p>
<p>Luke attempted to stifle a laugh, and it was only then that he realized he’d cursed aloud. ‘How do you forget about the printers?’ Luke asked through halting breaths as he attempted to keep his laughter down. ‘They’re the single most useful thing around here!’</p>
<p>Deciding promptly to never speak his thoughts again, ever, Vader ignored the manner in which his face felt like it had gotten sunburnt twice over and focused on an explanation. ‘Quite easily,’ he grumbled, ‘When I still had the time to focus on engineering and mechanics, I had little access to them, if I had access at all. By the time they became more ubiquitous, I had gained many other responsibilities, and I have yet to be able to fully embrace them into my methodology.’</p>
<p>Luke smiled warmly at him. ‘Well, then I guess that’s why I’m here,’ he murmured softly, and Vader— he hardly had any idea what to do with such a declaration. Thankfully, Luke didn’t seem to expect an answer as he carried on. ‘Come on then,’ he said as he refocused on the design. ‘Let’s rethink these things with a turanium base in mind.’</p>
<p>That, at least, he could do. ‘Agreed,’ he muttered with a nod as he scrutinized the port with a new perspective.</p>
<p>They worked their way through the rest of the design in a similar fashion, debating back and forth on the merits of various alloys, servos, and wiring techniques, using each other as a sounding board in a manner that Vader had sorely missed, and that he could tell Luke had too by the sheer joy that spiraled through the air alongside his own, dipping and diving around his own like an excited fawn weaving between its parent’s legs. Multiple issues within the hand were resolved in rapid succession, and he could scarcely remember the last time he had felt this engaged and challenged in a field, as the both of them drove each other to think of ever more inventive solutions to all manner of issues.</p>
<p>So engaged were they, in fact, that he didn’t register the approach of the Medics until they were at the door and letting themselves into the room.</p>
<p>Looking up from where they were just discussing the merits of redesigning the wiring around the radius port, or the radius port around the wiring, he tracked the Force signatures of the Medics filing through the door. Medic Ruthgar, Valent, and Pelli were there once more, alongside their assistants, and watching them stumble hesitantly into the room as they caught sight of him, he was once again struck with how time melted away whenever he was engaged with the little star.</p>
<p>‘Hello! It’s good to see you all,’ Luke greeted them all happily, before turning back to Vader once more. ‘Continue this later?’ he asked, voice and Force filled with something hopeful and expectant that Vader doubted he could deny even if he wanted to.</p>
<p>‘Of course,’ he answered without preamble. ‘We have yet to resolve the issue of the radius port.’</p>
<p>Luke shot him an annoyed look. ‘No we haven’t, you’re just stubborn,’ he protested. ‘First the port, then the wiring,’ he asserted. ‘It’ll take the pressure off of having to design a port that’s compatible with the wiring <em>and</em> the neural-connector and allow focus on just the neural-connector. It’s simple math.’</p>
<p>‘You underestimate the redesign that would be necessary for the rest of the prosthesis, Luke,’ he pointed out. ‘The wiring is as it is for a reason, and changing it might incur more issues than it resolves. <em>Furthermore,’</em> he added as Luke already opened his mouth to protest, ‘Now is not the time. I will see if I can resolve the issue while you are in surgery, but put it out of mind for now.’</p>
<p>Luke huffed out a breath and Vader had the suspicion the child was barely refraining from rolling his eyes. ‘Fine,’ he relented, shutting off the projector and handing the datapad back over to Vader. ‘Later,’ he promised.</p>
<p>‘Later,’ he returned, before shifting his focus back to the Medics who were awkwardly hovering at the edge of the room, looking at the two of them like they had both grown a second head. Already tired of the unproductive and obnoxious activity of staring at one another, Vader crossed his arms and fixed them with a look he knew the Dark would convey effortlessly in spirit despite his mask. ‘Are you aiming to make the preparations from a distance, Medics?’ he rumbled, ‘Or are you planning on approaching your patient at some point?’</p>
<p>Now the little star <em>did</em> roll his eyes and shot Vader an annoyed look. ‘They were being polite and trying not to intrude, leave them be,’ he chastised, and were it not for the fact that the Medics were staring at them like they were some manner of spectacle, Vader might have felt it too.</p>
<p>As it was, he merely held his tongue and glared at the rubbernecking Medics until they either felt his growing irritation with them, or they realized they actually did have a job to do after all.</p>
<p>Medic Valent was the first to snap out of her trance, and shook her head as she grinned wide back at Luke. ‘Hey, kid,’ she greeted, ‘How’s it been?’</p>
<p>‘Besides the fact that I had to wake up way too early?’ he retorted drily, before easing back into a genuine smile with a shrug. ‘It’s been fun.’</p>
<p>Medic Valent quickly glanced between Luke and himself and the Force flashed with equal parts confusion, resigned acceptance, and amused relief from her and her colleagues. ‘Happy to hear it, kid,’ she told him sincerely as she walked up to Luke, Vader stepping back to allow her the room she needed to inspect the remains of the burns along Luke's right arm. Gently unwinding the bandages and bacta patches, she inspected the still somewhat red and shiny, but quite clearly no longer overly sensitive skin with a few careful brushes and pokes. ‘Well, kid,’ she said as she finished inspecting the arm with a final, scrutinizing look at the skin on Luke's stump, ‘I’d say you’re all healed up far enough for the proper surgery. So, if you’re ready, I’m giving it the all clear.’</p>
<p>‘Sounds good,’ Luke agreed. ‘Let’s do this.’</p>
<p>With the permission granted, the old woman turned over her shoulder and signaled the rest of the medical team with a curt nod. Within moments Luke's bed was swarmed with all the various medical staff attaching scanner points, checking the IV line with quick motions, and otherwise preparing the child for the surgery ahead. There was care to the motions, certainly, but also a clinical aspect that left Vader feeling on edge and wary on the child’s behalf.</p>
<p>By the time the stretcher was rolled in to transport Luke to the operation theater, he couldn’t deny that he was feeling nervous, which was amplified by Luke's own anxiety as the whole event became distressingly real, even as the Medics attempted to keep him distracted with cheerful conversation.</p>
<p>Keeping close by when the stretcher was finally wheeled out of the recovery ward and towards the operating theater, Vader couldn’t help but hope that time would pass just as quickly as it did in the absence of his little star as it did with, even as he knew it to be an idle hope.</p>
<p>They proceeded quickly to the operating theater, and before he knew it, a reluctant Medic was blocking his way at the entrance. ‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ the surgery assistant told him, a small tremor within their voice, ‘But I must ask you to remain outside of the—’</p>
<p>‘Wait!’ Luke called, and everyone’s attention promptly snapped over to the child, who flushed a deep red, anxiety flaring within the Force and reaching out towards Vader's own signature. ‘Can’t he— can’t he stay at least until— until—’ Unable to finish his sentence but intent made more than clear, Vader nearly resolved to shove the hapless assistant out of the way to reach the child when Medic Pelli spoke up.</p>
<p>‘I… suppose he can remain until the anesthesia takes effect,’ she allowed hesitantly, before turning her gaze towards Vader. ‘But I must ask that you leave the operating theater immediately once it does, my Lord,’ she ordered in a tone that brokered no arguments, and for once, Vader wasn’t interested in making any, as long as he was able to soothe the worst of Luke's anxieties.</p>
<p>‘Noted,’ he acknowledged curtly, stepping around the assistant who had feebly attempted to block his path and towards Luke's side, attempting to form as little of an obstruction to the Medics rushing around him to ready everything and yet, not caring much when he caught Luke's gaze.</p>
<p>Luke, who smiled up to him with a shy and watery smile. ‘Guess this is it then?’ he muttered quietly.</p>
<p>‘It is,’ Vader agreed just as quietly. ‘There is nothing to fear, little one,’ he soothed, and then, a sudden burst of inspiration. ‘Trust me.’</p>
<p>Luke's eyes widened, but between one blink and the next, a soft smile overtook his face, his Home’s Force signature calming effortlessly. ‘Just tell me how,’ he muttered back.</p>
<p>‘Administering the anesthetic,’ one of the medical assistants told them. ‘You’ll fall unconscious in a couple of moments, sir.’</p>
<p>Fear swept into the Force as Luke's eyes widened even further and Vader automatically grasped Luke's one remaining hand to draw his attention back to him. ‘Easy, little one,’ he muttered. ‘I will be there when you wake again.’</p>
<p>‘Promise?’ Luke mumbled quietly, with large eyes that were already beginning to droop.</p>
<p>‘I <em>promise</em>,’ he told the little one with as much sincerity as he could manage, Vowing that neither the Force nor the Dark would be able to keep him from fulfilling it, even if both seemed disinclined to hinder him. ‘Sleep, little one,’ he told the child gently. ‘The world will be a little easier once you wake.’</p>
<p>‘Mhh,’ Luke hummed back, eyes dropping closed entirely, hand beginning to fall slack within Vader's grip. He waited a few moments longer to be sure, and only when the little star of iridescence hummed of a restful sleep, did he finally dare to let go.</p>
<p>‘He’s under,’ Medic Ruthgar told him needlessly. ‘I’m sorry, my Lord, but you really must leave now.’</p>
<p>Aware of that fact and unwilling to waste anymore words when the Medics could be proceeding with the surgery that much faster, Vader merely nodded and marched out of the room without another word.</p>
<p>With a pulse of the Dark, he closed the doors to the operating theater behind him, and attempted to put the urge to rush back inside out of mind. At the very least, there was work to be done to distract his mind with. Walking back down the hallways without any true destination in mind, he resolved to find some place close by to wait and work until Luke came back out of surgery. Perhaps the recovery ward once more?</p>
<p>The Dark wrapped around him in a mockery of an embrace, whining lowly as he drifted further and further away from his sleeping Home, and for once, he was in full agreement with it. He hoped it would be done and over with as soon as possible as well. But for now, there was work to be done, and he had promised Luke to see if he could not resolve the issue with the radius port before he awoke once more. There was a minor backlog in reports and other paperwork that would need to be sorted too, as well as any potential leads and updates within the investigation.</p>
<p>Opening his inbox on his datapad and immediately discarding any and all mail associated with Ozzel and any of his lackeys, he sorted the remains by priority and selected the first. A report from the Chief Officer of Communications, concerning the inquiry made into the authorization codes of the general order given for the disposal of the security data cache. Apparently, the reason they had been unable to locate the order within their archives was because their search parameters had been flawed. They had been looking in the archive of the wrong tier of codes, and now that they had changed their parameters, they had confidence that they would find the order in question soon—</p>
<p>‘My Lord!’ a voice called out to him, breaking through his concentration and directing his gaze upwards at the source of the call.</p>
<p>At the door to the recovery ward, a man in an Engineer Officer’s uniform was rushing towards him, with Kix hot on his heels. A frantic wave of desperation crashed into him through the Force as the man approached, and it set Vader on guard in mere seconds. ‘Officer,’ he acknowledged curtly. ‘Report.’</p>
<p>The man heaved out a breath of relief as his shoulders slumped and he nodded rapidly. ‘My Lord,’ he began urgently, ‘There is a situation in the main hangar. The Admiral— Admiral Ozzel, he’s— he’s gone utterly <em>mad.’</em> The man fidgeted even as he stood at attention, breath coming out in heavy pants and Vader had to wonder if the Engineer had ran here the entire way. ‘He’s— he’s been attempting to override the lockdown orders and take a shuttle out of here, ostensibly for emergency reasons, though he refuses to clarify and merely demands that we let him pass. Captain Piett has been blocking him on your authority, but the situation is escalating at an unstoppable rate! More and more Officers have been getting involved, and when I was sent to inform you of the situation, there were already more than twenty different high-ranking Officers involved. My Lord, we’re not sure how much longer we can keep the situation under control and it’s looking like there might be a riot—’</p>
<p>‘Why was I not informed of this?’ he interrupted brusquely, casting out his presence into the Force and indeed picking up on a larger agitation of moods than usual somewhere around the hangar. It was still small enough to get lost in the hundreds of thousands of Force signatures aboard the Lady, but it was growing stronger by the moment. What was happening there?</p>
<p>‘I— We— we tried to get a hold of you, my Lord,’ the Officer stammered out, ‘But you were not responding to your comm and it was assumed you were still within the medical wing. Which is why I was sent by Engineer Lyvon to inform you of the situation and ask that you <em>please</em> get it back under control.’</p>
<p>‘We’ve been fielding calls all morning, my Lord,’ Kix cut in brusquely as he walked up, not a trace of humor in his tone. ‘I was about to come get you myself, but then the gearhead over here arrived and I thought it best to guide him to you myself before he had a breakdown.’ He crossed his arms with a knowing look that Vader didn’t like one bit as he continued, ‘Should’ve known you would be seeing the kid safely into the operating theater though. My bad.’</p>
<p>He had no time for Kix’s sly insinuations into a situation he had no understanding of, his mind already going a lightyear a minute to work out the situation this frantic Engineer had been sent to him to sort out. ‘You two, with me,’ he informed them shortly, already turning down the hallway towards the exit and the elevator station. He had little idea of what was going on, but across the Lady tempers were evidently flaring high, and the more he focused on the ripples of emotions spreading out within the Force, the more he got a grip on the individuals involved.</p>
<p>Offense, indignation, determination, forced calm, desperation, and a deep, frantic, primal <em>fear</em> that had Vader wondering who it was and what it was that had them in such a state. Honing in on the fear and its origin, he nearly grimaced in disgust when he felt a familiar, oily presence brush against the edge of his presence. Admiral Ozzel. Clearly, the man was fearing something with a bone-deep intensity that Vader wasn’t surprised that it was evidently driving him to desperation, but there was something more lurking underneath that all-encompassing fear. Something—</p>
<p>‘What in the Name of the Force does that half-wit of an Admiral think he is doing!?’ he snarled out to no one in particular as stalked down the hallways, lengthening his strides into a hunting pace and disregarding the struggle he was beginning to sense in the Officer in his attempt to keep up. This would need to be handled with haste. ‘Officer,’ he barked out as he manually set the destination in the elevators and summoning a railcar with a lash of the Dark, bypassing the Troopers at the station entirely, ‘Elaborate on the situation. Admiral Ozzel is attempting to breach lockdown, give your best estimates on the reasons as to why and how.’</p>
<p>‘Yes, sir!’ the Officer answered reflexively, and thankfully, he had the sense not to waste precious time with correcting titles. ‘We don’t know why, my Lord,’ he quickly explained. ‘The Admiral simply rushed in about half an hour ago and has been attempting to requisition a shuttle ever since. He has given no reason as to his decision and has attempted to override the lockdown with his authorization codes multiple times, only failing because Captain Piett had the foresight to set your codes as the only valid ones. But then he tried to override <em>that</em> order with his authorization codes and he’s been attempting to pull rank ever since to reach his objective. Captain Piett has so far been able to block him, but tensions are rising and the public scene it created has attracted enough attention that I fear it may soon boil over.’</p>
<p>‘Tensions over what?’ he growled as he walked into the rail station at a rapid pace, radiating enough danger and menace into the Force that even the Crewmates in the station knew to get out of his way. ‘The Admiral is in clear violation of lockdown and is making illegal demands he has no right to make. Why has he not been restrained and put in detention?’</p>
<p>The Officer made a strangled noise and Vader spared half a glance behind to see the man struggling to keep pace even as Kix matched his speed evenly, expression darkening with every word the Officer uttered. ‘The Admiral has several other high-ranking Officers on-site, my Lord,’ the man rushed to explain. ‘They’ve been asserting his authority towards the flight crew still complying with the lockdown with barely-veiled hostility and insisting that Captain Piett and those supporting him step aside and allow the shuttle to be cleared.’</p>
<p>Did they intend to join the Admiral in his attempted breach of lockdown?’ he asked sharply, a picture of the situation beginning to form in his mind even as the railcar hurtled along the tracks, the Dark beginning to swell around him as a conclusion began to suggest itself, hissing eagerly at the prospect of dealing with these so-called <em>Officers</em>. ‘If so, they are all guilty of mutiny, insubordination, and potentially desertion.’</p>
<p>‘We don’t know, my Lord!’ the Officer squeaked out. ‘They won’t elaborate their plans or explain any reasoning behind them, and they get more hostile with every attempt to negotiate. I just— I was merely instructed to find you and inform you of the situation after attempts at hailing your comm failed, my Lord, nothing more. I couldn’t tell you anything about what the situation is and isn’t.’</p>
<p>He snarled in frustration and a bubble of fear popped within the Force, spilling out of the Officer and eagerly lapped up by the Dark that coiled ever tighter in anticipation of violence and rage. At his wits end with the uselessness of the information of the Officer, he once more threw himself into the Force, allowing his presence to flare out and hone in on the ever-building bubble of tension in the main hangar that was nearly sending the Dark frothing at the proverbial maw at the prospect of a feeding frenzy. The fear and desperation had skyrocketed, and there was a certain tension underneath the whole bubble of wildly boiling emotions that had him tensing in his frame as well in the anticipation of a fight.</p>
<p>There was little calm to be found in the melting pot of confusion, dread, fear, and desperation, but here and there he found the spots of composure and levelheadedness. The largest of whom had the distinctive blend of sensations that could only be described in the same terms as one would use for a planet; a surface of steady and hardened indifference to outside influences and a molten core of determination and tenacity. Piett. Thank the Force the Captain was on the case of keeping this madhouse in check.</p>
<p>As productive as all the chaos was for fueling the Dark, if there was a riot that would prevent him from keeping his promise to <em>be there </em><em>for Luke</em> when he woke up the morgue would be getting the express delivery of an ex-Admiral’s corpse.</p>
<p>They might still get it either way, seeing as that if this <em>wasn’t</em> a case of mutiny, he had already resolved to rewrite the military law to include it in its definition.</p>
<p>The railcar ground to a halt and Vader strode out the moment the doors slid open, Kix and the Officer right behind him. He paid them no mind, his attention shifted wholly towards the brew and bubbling tension only half a klick or less away. Crew and Trooper alike made sure to grant him his space as he swept through the hallways and into the main hangar, sometimes quite literally throwing themselves against the sides of the walls.</p>
<p>He paid <em>none</em> of them any mind.</p>
<p>The moment he entered the hangar he could already hear the cacophony of the rising argument come up to meet him as the cavernous space amplified all echoes. Call and responses of various Troopers who were attempting to keep the peace, increasingly loud and desperate demands as to be allowed to break lockdown and, grating above it all, the shrieking of one Admiral Ozzel as he demanded his authority to be respected and allowed to disobey direct orders.</p>
<p>He hardly cared what was words were used to say it, he saw the true intent behind it all with crystal clarity.</p>
<p>Growling at the flagrant insubordination and disrespect, he set the Dark loose as it snarled and snapped with him in turn. His presence of void and starless night billowed out throughout the entire hangar, pressing down on all present and asserting his presence until even the humming of the machines seemed quieter, the cacophony of voices breaking off into dead silence as he rounded the corner and finally caught sight of the near-riot.</p>
<p>There, in the middle of the shuttle bay, stood Ozzel and the various Officers he recognized as the man’s loyal lapdogs, postures still puffed up and tense with delusions of authority that were deflating rapidly. He spotted Piett standing directly in opposition to them, and he felt both a spark of gratification and a flare of concern when the man’s posture and expression lost tension instead of gaining it when he caught sight of Vader's approach.</p>
<p>Evidently, whatever Ozzel and his moronic sycophants had been attempting, it had still been an unfair matchup against the good Captain, with Ozzel’s posse numbering thirteen strong while Piett had, at a glance, only General Veers, Lieutenant Allter, Engineer Lyvon, and the Commanders Cody and Appo to immediately back him up, even as a whole crowd of Troopers, Engineers, Crewmates, and Officers with an apparent lack of spine gathered around as a crowd and seemed to be at least passively assisting.</p>
<p>Still, Commanding Officer the Captain may be, it was high past time that the numbers were evened out in his favor.</p>
<p><em>‘What,’</em> he growled out as he approached with long, predatory strides, the gathered crowd scattering out of his way to allow him a clear path towards Piett and Ozzel, ‘Is the meaning off all this? I am absent for <em>one</em> nightshift and suddenly I am informed that there is a bid to <em>subvert</em> the lockdown’s security measures?’ He turned his full attention towards the two opposed men and let the Dark snarl out his displeasure with the situation. ‘There had better be a sufficient explanation, Officers,’ he hissed out, ‘As to why there is an attempt taking place to disobey orders given directly in my Name.’</p>
<p>While Ozzel gaped and stammered on any attempted sounds, Piett, thankfully, proved himself worthy of the trust placed in him as he saluted towards Vader without any hesitation. ‘My Lord,’ he greeted evenly, ‘I’m afraid that the only explanation I can give is that I was informed of an attempt to breach the lockdown while making my morning rounds. I proceeded towards the main hangar as quickly as possible after that, and was able to block Admiral Ozzel from his attempt. Regrettably, I have no more information to provide to you as the Admiral was not forthcoming with his reasoning for the attempt and has been rather obstinate in insisting that he has the right to illegally commandeer a shuttle and depart the Lady with it. Any attempts at gathering information were waylaid by the more pressing issue of keeping all shuttles grounded.’ He bowed shallowly and Vader grinned viciously as he felt the man’s satisfaction bleed into the Force alongside Ozzel’s growing panic.</p>
<p>Turning his attention wholly towards Ozzel, he angled himself in the manner a predator might, and nearly hissed when Ozzel’s fear skyrocketed. This man knew what he was doing. And he knew that he was cornered. Excellent. ‘And do you have anything to say to that, Admiral Ozzel?’ he rumbled lowly, stepping towards the now slowly growing ball of panic that were Ozzel and his lackeys. ‘Or should I assume that you are guilty of mutiny, insubordination, and desertion right here and now?’</p>
<p>Ozzel trembled at his approach, the Force was saturated with nothing but sheer fear and panic that brought a catharsis to Vader that had been a far too long time coming. Unfortunately, either Ozzel’s ego had grown unchecked for far too long, or the man possessed more of a spine than he was inclined to use at any given time, as the Admiral visibly rallied and managed to puff himself up with self-righteous indignation and fury once more.</p>
<p>‘This. Is. An. <em>Outrage,’</em> he snapped at Vader with more steadiness to his voice than Vader could tell he was truly feeling. ‘You cannot <em>think</em> to obstruct the regular comings and goings of a warship the size of the Executor! My Lord,’ he hastily tacked on at the end. ‘I <em>demand</em> to be able to travel as the duties of my station demand without having to demean myself by asking you for permission like some rowdy <em>youth</em><em>—’ </em></p>
<p>‘You <em>demand,’</em> Vader interrupted icily, the monotony of the vocoder lending a specific kind of disdain to his words not easily copied, ‘Far more than your station affords you, Admiral.’ Drawing his head back and straightening up to his full height, he towered over the pathetic wretch of an Admiral with his full disdain and power roiling through the Force, the Dark eagerly pressing it hard into the minds of all present. <em>‘I</em> am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces, Admiral,’ he asserted, the Force ringing with the truth spoken. ‘And I will order the state of affairs aboard this ship as I see fit. At the moment, there is a traitor aboard and their identity is unknown—’ And the Force shrunk in fear around the Admiral at that statement at that— ‘And until they are discovered, this ship <em>will</em> remain in full lockdown.’</p>
<p>‘You cannot do this!’ Ozzel snapped, and there must honestly be a rather severe desperation behind the man’s reasoning if he had already discarded what Vader had <em>just</em> said. ‘There are errands that must be run, meetings that must be had! You cannot keep over a million people prisoner just because one <em>brat</em> got injured—’</p>
<p>‘There was an act of sabotage, you nitwit!’ General Veers shouted back before Vader could proceed with his impromptu plan of choking out the Admiral and continuing discussions with the next, hopefully more sensible spokesperson of the group that stepped forward. ‘Someone tried to <em>kill</em> one of our own aboard this very ship and you think a lockdown isn’t warranted to ferret out the two-faced son of a bitch who managed to pass themselves as one of us!?’</p>
<p>‘I can hardly fault someone for taking offense at that classless mistake darkening the hallways of this ship!’ Ozzel snapped back. ‘I certainly object to this being treated as if the whole Empire were under threat from one measly explosion that didn’t even claim a single life!’ And there it was again, that shrinking in the Force as Ozzel drew in on himself, something rotten and foul underneath the layers of bluster and ego that made Vader's hackles rise on end.</p>
<p>‘Am I to understand, Admiral,’ he growled, dangerously low and with lethal intent, ‘That you find the existence of a conspiracy aboard this ship, aimed at killing an Officer, no cause for alarm?’</p>
<p>Ozzel scoffed loudly and with more bravado than was ever wise. ‘With all due respect, my Lord,’ the man sniffed out. ‘But as I told you in my report this morning, if I wanted to read about wild and improbable conspiracy theories, I would order a tabloid to be delivered—’</p>
<p>‘The saboteur and would-be assassin confessed to the existence of a conspiracy himself, Admiral,’ he cut off flatly, uncaring of the multitude of individuals present who were not privy to that, up until now, classified piece of information for reasons that he couldn’t <em>quite</em> articulate yet but that loomed over him within the Dark, a firestorm at the heart of those dark and dangerous tendrils currently snaking throughout the crowd, riling it up while simultaneously keeping it paralyzed with fear. ‘You would know this, if you had bothered to read the reports on the ongoing investigation.’</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ another Officer besides Ozzel whose name Vader couldn’t be bothered to recall beyond the rank of Captain. ‘Because the ravings of what was clearly a madman about to die anyway are a reputable source to draw such conclusions from,’ he finished with an eyeroll. ‘Come now, my Lord, everyone knows it was a last-ditch attempt at dragging others down with him.’</p>
<p>‘A member of the conspiracy he had named was found dead by suicide not hours later,’ Piett shot back evenly, sending ripples throughout the crowd, and Vader couldn’t be less bothered by the Captain’s flippant reveal of classified information if he tried. Not when there was something gathering in the Force that seemed suspiciously close to—</p>
<p>‘Pure coincidence!’ Another—a Commander—threw back. ‘Where is your proof that he’d killed himself because he was some sort of nutcase conspirator and not just a regular nutcase?’</p>
<p>Kix made an enraged sound and stomped towards the Commander who’d spoken. ‘Did you just call <em>suicide</em> the result of a “nutcase!?”’ he spat out. ‘Why you—!’</p>
<p>‘Well they certainly weren’t sane either if they offed themselves, now were they?’ the Commander shouted back. ‘And you’re even less sane if you believe that there is some elaborate ruse to get rid of the twerp!’</p>
<p>‘There was a fucking saboteur at work, you blind hawk-bat!’ Veers growled. ‘What? Are we forgetting that the whole reason this lockdown is happening is because there was an <em>actual fucking saboteur—!?’</em></p>
<p>‘Who was caught and disposed of!’ the Captain snapped. ‘Why this whole circus is still necessary is while the culprit has been apprehended and dealt with is mystery for the ages—’</p>
<p><em>‘Enough!’</em> Vader bellowed over the din of shouting voices and accusations, silence falling in an instant. ‘Enough, all of you.’</p>
<p>‘Yes, enough!’ Ozzel blustered. ‘Enough of this lockdown, Lord Vader. We demand to be able to—’</p>
<p><em>‘Hold your tongue,’</em> he growled out, the Dark lending enough weight to the threat in his tone that even Ozzel fell silent, pale and fearful. ‘There will be no lifting of the lockdown until the entire conspiracy has been apprehended and no earlier. Until then, you are all in violation of direct orders, and will be disciplined accordingly. I will not have—’ He never got to finish his sentence as the Force suddenly flared with panic and fear, one of the Officer’s nerves near-audibly snapping.</p>
<p>‘You take that back,’ the Commander stated shakily. And in the blink of an eye he had pulled his service weapon and aimed the barrel at Vader. ‘You take that back, <em>right now—!'</em></p>
<p>‘Commander!’ Piett snapped. ‘Lower that gun right this instance, you are threatening—!’</p>
<p>‘No!’ the Commander yelled back, near hysterically as his hand shook while holding the weapon, eyes wide and wild as they regarded Vader with all the fear of corned prey. ‘No, no, no, no, <em>no!</em> It wasn’t— this wasn’t supposed to—!'</p>
<p>He heard the Troopers behind him shift to immediately draw their own weapons in response to the Officer’s reckless desperation and he idly made a hand gesture to forestall any advancements. He hardly needed aid to deal with one desperate fool who was only now realizing how deep they were in.</p>
<p>Ambling forward with all the care this “danger” warranted, he bared his teeth alongside the Dark in a mockery of a smile when the panic and fear rolled off of the man in waves, gun arm shaking dangerously. Anything he would have said, however, was caught off when two other Officers with more audacity than sense drew their weapons as well and stepped forward too.</p>
<p>‘Not another step!’ another Commander snarled. ‘Don’t you fucking dare take another step, you freak— ak— ack—!’</p>
<p>Words caught off along with their air supply, and weapons were long forgotten when he lifted all three into the air with barely a gesture and a tug of the Dark, their compatriots scrambling away from under them as the three fools clawed at their throats, their weapons clattering to the ground.</p>
<p>‘You dare draw a weapon on me?’ he murmured, not needing to raise his voice above barely even as whisper as the whole crowd around him went dead silent. ‘You <em>dare,’</em> he hissed, tightening the Dark grip around their necks by a touch until they were truly beginning to struggle, ‘Draw a weapon on <em>me?’</em></p>
<p>No answered came forth beyond gurgling, choking coughs as the men frantically attempted to draw in air while hanging suspended by their necks, the weight of their bodies only helping the process of asphyxiation along. Not that he needed one.</p>
<p>They had attempted to attack him.</p>
<p>
  <em>They were dead men.</em>
</p>
<p><em>‘That,’</em> he told them icily, ‘Will be your very <em>last</em> mistake.’</p>
<p>Squeezing tighter slowly, gently, the life began to seep from their Force signatures as he cut off the flow of blood and oxygen to their brains as well as their lungs. Their struggles became weaker and weaker, the Dark coiling around him and them, laughing, until at last there would be little more to be gained from them by prolonging the process. He gave one last vicious, crushing <em>squeeze</em> to their necks until something sharply <em>snapped</em> and their signatures winked out in the Force.</p>
<p>Releasing the now lifeless bodies from his grip, he let them fall to the floor like ragdolls, the thump they made as they hit the ground causing flinches in the whole crowd and a ripple of fear and horror to spread outwards. ‘Now then,’ he said mildly as he stepped forward towards the remainder of Ozzel’s little posse, even as they stumbled backwards. ‘This is your situation: I am at the end of my patience, and the next person to make a similarly ill-advised choice will be summarily executed. Surrender to disciplinary measures or die,’ he ordered them bluntly. ‘And before you decide your fate, let me state that I frankly have little care for which you choose, so if you fail to make the choice yourself, <em>I</em> will choose in your stead.’</p>
<p>Most mutineers had gone very pale in the face indeed, and while he saw the spirits break in more than one of them, he was curious to note that the desperation, the sheer fear of something <em>other</em> seemed to outweigh their current fear by quite a margin. A margin large enough to allow Ozzel to uncharacteristically rally once more as he puffed himself up once more even as his knees knocked together.</p>
<p>‘An outrage!’ he bellowed, the paleness in his face melting oddly into the redness of his rage and making for a rather unsightly splotchy appearance. ‘This is a grand abuse of power and I demand that you cease this at once! To think that someone from the House of Ozzel would be required to bend because the spawn from some outer rim <em>tramp </em>didn’t have the good common sense to defer to their betters—’ What. ‘—and know their place—’ <em>What.</em> ‘—instead of parading around like they <em>own the place, well I—!’</em></p>
<p>Whatever realization he might have had to tirade Ozzel was about to go on was interrupted by the sharp, shrieking emergency alarm of his comm as the Dark wailed out a warning in tandem, the constant feeling of unease at last swelling into something distinguishable. A loud siren that had everyone including himself freeze up immediately as they registered the one sound that could never be muted on the comm units no matter if they were standard issue or specialized like his. The signal that meant something had gone terribly wrong and the person on the other end of the line had information with lives hanging in the balance.</p>
<p>Grabbing the comm still blaring out an earsplitting siren, he hit the call button and held it up for everyone to hear in the ensuing silence, even as the Dark continued ringing the warning through his mind. <em>‘Speak,’ </em>he bit out at the device.</p>
<p>‘Chief Officer of Communications,’ the man on the other end of the line rattled off in a single breath. ‘We heard of the situation in the hangar, my Lord, and I’m telling you to please listen when I say the following: <em>do not let Admiral Ozzel leave the ship.</em> I repeat, <em>do</em> not <em>let Admiral Ozzel leave the ship.’</em></p>
<p>Glancing up at the Admiral as the Dark continued shrieking in warning, he finally saw the bluster and ego fall away from the man’s Force signature in shock, and reveal the rot underneath.</p>
<p>‘We finally found the general order of erasure for the security data cache,’ the Chief Officer continued, oblivious to the sirens building in Vader's head.</p>
<p>He recognized it. He damn well <em>recognized</em> that feeling in the Force. How could he not? He wore it like a second skin.</p>
<p>‘The codes on the order were of a much higher caliber than we could have ever anticipated,’ the voice over the comm continued the explanation that Vader only vaguely registered as his eyes and Eyes were finally opened to the truth that had been there the whole time, just slightly out of reach.</p>
<p>This man— this <em>feeling</em>— he <em>knew</em> it. He knew what it was.</p>
<p>‘That’s why it took us so long to locate the order and cross-reference the codes. But there is no doubt about it—’</p>
<p><em>Guilt.</em> The feeling was <em>guilt.</em></p>
<p>‘My Lord,’ the voice continued, too far away and too close all at the same time. ‘It’s the Admiral.<em> Admiral Ozzel ordered the erasure of the cache.’</em></p>
<p>The Enemy. Finally revealed.</p>
<p>‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ were the words he didn’t hear anymore as the Dark surged around him, and Vader?</p>
<p>Vader saw <em>red</em> as he remembered the oldest lesson the Desert taught<em>.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>You didn’t let your Enemies </em>
  <strong>
    <em>live</em>
  </strong>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then. I think you can guess what we'll be seeing next chapter, no? And make no mistake, I will <i>not</i> be shying away from the carnage. Subsequently, we have entered the darkest part of the series yet. Mind yourself, and tread with care.</p>
<p>I will see you all next Sunday. Until then.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. It Will Terrify</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A massacre, a horror, and the rise of a new Admiral. How will that go, marked by today's events as he is?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ladies, Gents, and Honors, it's finally here! The long awaited chapter where everyone's favorite Captain becomes everyone's favorite Admiral! But first, we have to get the old one out of the way, so let me drop the levity for a moment to state this: This is the single darkest thing I've <i>ever</i> written. Period. The upcoming chapter is horror and gore through and through as Vader wreaks havoc, so I implore you take the coming trigger list seriously. <b>If at any point you no longer want to read through the chapter for any reason, there will be a non-explicit summary in the end notes to ensure that you don't miss anything.</b> Without further ado...</p><p> </p><p>  <b>The Trigger List:</b></p><ol>
<li>Graphic Descriptions of Murder</li>
<li>Graphic Descriptions of Malicious Body Transformation</li>
<li>Graphic Descriptions of Gore (Blood, Bone, Organs, ect.)</li>
<li>Mercy Kill via lethal injection (off-screen)</li>
<li>Panic and Fear</li>
<li>Hunting</li>
<li>Vomiting</li>
<li>Graphic Descriptions of Vomiting up Gore</li>
<li>Graphic Descriptions of Broken Necks</li>
<li>Graphic Descriptions of Crushed and Torn Bodies</li>
<li><b>Graphic Descriptions of Malicious Body Transformation (this is not a drill!)</b></li>
<li>A little too flippant attitude over deaths just witnessed</li>
<li>References to Emotional Breakdowns</li>
</ol><p>You read all that? Good. If any of this isn't your cup of tea, remember that there is a non-explicit summary at the end of the chapter in the Author's Notes. And lastly, heavy though it may be, please, <i>enjoy.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Firmus Piett had ever lived a moment tenser than the one he found himself in right now, he could hardly recall it.</p><p>Admiral Ozzel. All along it had been <em>Admiral Ozzel</em> behind the conspiracy that had sought to kill Lars, a fact that seemed so stupidly obvious in hindsight that the only reason he could give for not having realized it earlier was that it would be so <em>stupidly</em> obvious. Who in their right mind, would have suspected the Admiral of trying to kill the young man he had declared a one-sided rival in such a horrific manner when there were a dozen more likely candidates, each more dreaded and infamous for brutal lethality?</p><p>For the love of the Force, the latest update from the ISB concerning Lars’ status amongst the rest of the galaxy as a high-value target had put the worth of the collective bounties on the young man’s head at over five-hundred <em>million</em> credits. And it was <em>still</em> rising by the hour! There was hardly a faction in the galaxy that <em>wasn’t</em> gunning for the Engineer, and only the fact that he was currently situated aboard the largest warship in the galaxy under the direct protection of Lord Vader himself was likely what discouraged most attempts.</p><p>So really, <em>who</em> in their right mind would suspect the Admiral when there were these kinds of players at the table as well?</p><p>Piett knew Ozzel, had worked with him for far longer than he had ever wished to even be <em>aware</em> of the man’s existence, and for all that Ozzel could carry a grudge and exact revenge in the utterly most petty manner imaginable, he never would have thought the man capable of—</p><p>It hardly mattered now though. He couldn’t think of many things that would matter now.</p><p>Not when the main hangar, the beating heart of the Lady according to some, was filled with a deathly silence. A silence so loud that you could hear a pin drop. Or in this case, a comm unit.</p><p>The little black device clattered to the floor as Lord Vader released his grip, his entire posture frozen and still. No one dared move a muscle as the most terrifying realization slowly sank in.</p><p>It was <em>silent.</em></p><p>Not even the cycling of a respirator breaking the utter, ghostly silence. The humming of the Lady’s engines, ever-present. The bustling of people far away in the hangar. The very <em>breaths</em> they were taking.</p><p>None of it produced a single sound.</p><p>It was silent, and Piett had the horrifying suspicion that if he were to scream now, not a whisper would leave his lips.</p><p>It was silent, and that made it all the more obvious when something flashed at the far end of the hangar.</p><p>Lights. The lights were flickering, straining, and by the looks of it trying desperately to keep burning even as <em>something</em> was putting them out. Dim, bright, dim, bright, in irregular intervals that had Piett's nerves stand on end.</p><p>Lord Vader still hadn’t moved.</p><p>Neither had anyone else.</p><p>And the lights kept flickering. Then another. And another. Creeping closer and closer to them as the something— something <em>advanced</em> towards them in the utter silence.</p><p>The shadows lengthened, and there was something white— crystalline, spreading over the walls, closer and closer to them with each light that joined the strained fight against whatever was trying to shut them down. Something was coming for them, fast, and no one was moving. Not Vader, not Ozzel, no one. Piett wondered why he wasn’t moving, why he wasn’t saying anything, why he wasn’t <em>warning</em> anyone—</p><p><em>Warning</em>.</p><p>That thought shot through his mind and body like lightening, jerking some kind of response back into him and making him aware that <em>something was coming for the people under his command.</em></p><p>Opening his mouth with more effort than he had ever had to expend to do so, he attempted to say something—<em>anything</em>—about the encroaching <em>thing</em> that seemed to be moving along the lengthening shadows.</p><p>And not a word came out.</p><p>Silence pressed down on him like a weighted blanket, smothering any words he tried to form before they could even leave his mouth, and he watched, horrified, as they all stood as if bound while the thing making the lights flicker came closer, and closer, and—</p><p>Cold. <em>Freezing. </em></p><p>The lights overhead snapped out in a shower of sparks that set off the emergency lights, bathing the scene in a wash of red, and a wall of freezing air that slammed into them with a force that left him gasping in silence. The shadows had reached them, and it was <em>so cold.</em></p><p>His breath formed fog in the air, and with horror, he realized that the white, crystalline thing crawling over the walls was <em>frost.</em> Frost. In the Lady. In the main hangar. Crawling along the walls. Why was this familiar—?</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>His eyes snapped back over to Lord Vader—<em>Lord Vader,</em> who had nearly frozen the recovery ward solid only yesterday—and froze as solid as the temperature.</p><p>Shadows. Long, pitch black shadows that shrunk all light down to nothing fell on Lord Vader, and with the flickering, abysmal lighting, his form almost seemed to shift as well every time the lights failed. Red emergency lighting cast a feeble gleam on the hard, black armor, but it couldn’t stop the light from playing tricks on Piett's eyes, his Lord one moment looming as he usually did, the next, <em>towering</em>. Towering over all as the shadows played their tricks, Piett swearing that some moments he saw— he saw—</p><p>Terrible. <em>Grand.</em> Horrifying. Void. <em>Dark</em><em>. Laughter echoing through his mind, grating, rattling, from beyond the</em><em>—</em></p><p>Air left his lungs in a soundless gasp.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell was that thing!?</em>
</p><p>Then the lights flickered again and it was gone from sight, but now Piett <em>felt it.</em></p><p>The thing, looming over all of them, as heavy in the air as molasses and just as hard to breathe through too. The shadows <em>writhed</em> in a manner that was scientifically incompatible with Piett's current understanding of physics, and his head felt faint and strange as he looked at it, the laughter he was somehow hearing and not swelling in volume and that— that—</p><p>It took everything in him not to throw up on the floor when the “shadows” (It couldn’t be shadows. <em>It couldn’t be.</em> But oh Force, he didn’t know what he wished that they were <em>instead</em>) writhed again, and from the corner of his eye, he saw that some of the unfortunates weren’t as lucky. Some Troopers yanking their helmets off with as much haste as they could as they lost their breakfast to the floor. Despite the arctic temperatures, Piett felt sweat begin to gather at his brow.</p><p>Then the air <em>heaved—</em>something large lifting itself up—and suddenly it was easier to breathe again. Swaying on his feet with the vertigo of the sensation, Piett didn’t think he’d ever been that relieved to hear himself gasp and cough for breath, stumbling from his place as his feet seemed to unstick from the floor.</p><p>The relief shattered like dropped porcelain when a sound reached his ears, shaking through the air like an earthquake and reaching his ears in bursts and halts, Piett felt every hair on his body stand on end as his mind registered the sound.</p><p>Snarling and rasping, echoing and <em>furious.</em> Like an enraged beast, like a shattering mountain, like a million voices speaking at once with only a handful of them coming from a humanoid larynx.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>‘Enemy.’</em> </strong>
</p><p>The judgement thundered around them like a storm, and Piett's heart shot into his throat when, in time with the judgement, the metal of the floor shrieked and rent as five, monstrously large gouges were carved into the floor between him and Ozzel by an invisible hand. Wh— what the <em>entire—!?</em></p><p>He didn’t get the chance to finish that thought as one of the Officers doing his best to hide behind Ozzel evidently lost his nerve and sanity, shrieked like a banshee, and dashed past him and Vader attempting to make a break through the crowd and a bid for freedom.</p><p>‘No— <em>no!</em> I can’t— what is— <em>let me out!’</em> he yelled wild and desperate as he rushed the crowd, people shrieking as he stormed towards them, and—</p><p>Something <em>snapped</em> through the air and a snarl wove through it like water. The Officer stopped dead in his tracks and went utterly silent. Shadows roiled in a way light never did and when he glanced back towards Lord Vader, his blood ran as cold as the air around him.</p><p>Lord Vader had finally moved.</p><p>And he was staring straight at the frozen Officer, fists clenched at his side. Piett hadn’t seen him move, and he sure wasn’t now, but none of that mattered when the Officer convulsed.</p><p>At first it was just a light shake of his shoulders. Then an eerily soundless heave, and something dark and viscous dripped onto the ground, people in the crowd shrieking and wailing as the Officer continued to heave. Then the man’s feet abruptly seemed to come unstuck and he stumbled to the side, turning slightly in the process—</p><p>Oh— Oh Force.</p><p>Oh thrice damned holy <em>Force</em>.</p><p>Piett's heart stilled as he stared at the man with all the morbid fascination of watching a train wreck.</p><p>His eyes. Oh Force, his <em>eyes</em>. They were blank, completely rolled back into his head, jarringly white and gleaming with the red of the emergency lights in horrific contrast to the near-black blood that dripped out of his mouth with every heave. The man convulsed and thrashed and in all his distress, never so much as made a sound, even as the people began to panic around him.</p><p>Then the true horror began.</p><p>With a particular choking heave, Piett watched with wide eyes as the man spat up a glob of bloody flesh that landed on the ground with a stomach-turning <em>splat.</em> It— it was still <em>beating</em> and— and—</p><p>Force, if there was any mercy in this world, <em>don’t tell him that was his heart</em><em>—</em></p><p>The Officer collapsed onto the ground within seconds, and the heaving weakened until at last the man was lying still and broken on the ground, lifeless white eyes still staring out.</p><p>The crowd was dead silent. Someone fainted.</p><p>Piett couldn’t blame them.</p><p>They’d just witnessed a man spit out his own— no, they’d witnessed <em>Lord Vader</em> make a man spit out his own heart. Which— that—</p><p>Oh <em>Force</em>.</p><p>Turning his gaze back to Lord Vader with all the trepidation of facing a—no, facing something much, much <em>worse</em> than a starving nexu—Piett blanched as he saw that the man had once more moved while Piett hadn’t been looking, and was now staring, still as a statue, at the remaining treasonous Officers who were looking at their fallen comrade with all the blank shock and horror appropriate for the situation, something which slowly, all too slowly, morphed into terror as they realized exactly what they were seeing.</p><p>Then one Officer in the middle of the pack made the fatal choice of looking up towards Lord Vader with wide, terrified eyes.</p><p>Not a second later a series of nauseating snapping sounds rung out as his neck twisted in several ways it should never have been able to, and Piett thought that he saw— that he saw <em>bone</em> sticking— sticking out of—</p><p>His stomach gave a roil as the body sank down, and along with it, reality for the other treasonous Officers.</p><p>Panic erupted in a manner that put a volcano to shame. Officers attempted to sprint off in all various directions, screaming and shrieking when the air roared to life with something vicious and <em>furious.</em> One by one they fell, necks broken or choking on their own organs and blood, chests collapsing where they stood in a mess of flesh and bone.</p><p>It was a bloodbath.</p><p>And it only left one man standing.</p><p>Ozzel, who had apparently been unable to run for any reason that might range from shock to fear to catatonic breakdown, was standing as the sole breathing body in a mass of corpses, shock-still and pale white as he barely seemed to comprehend the carnage around him.</p><p>For a moment, no one moved.</p><p>Then Vader took a step forward, and the whole world ground to a halt as everyone in the hangar realized how deep the pit that had just opened up underneath them was. His movements were lurching yet fluid, graceful yet erratic. To say Lord Vader moved like a predator would be to say that a rancor on the loose was an inconvenience—a wild understatement and liable to get someone <em>killed</em> due to the miscommunication.</p><p><strong><em>‘You!’</em> </strong>the Lord hissed out, both through the vocoder and not, the very air seeming to form the words a million times over in a susurration that made Piett's hind brain scream into fight or flight reflexes. <strong><em>‘You!’</em></strong></p><p>Every step forward was accompanied by ringing ears and torn metal as invisible claws raked along the deck, leaving deep gouges in their wake, as if Lord Vader was not so much stepping forward as that something much larger was <em>clawing</em> its way towards Ozzel.</p><p>Ozzel, who finally realized what was coming for him, began scrambling backwards, his eyes fixated on the approaching Black Death, Specter of the Battlefields, who stood haloed in light as red as the blood he soaked whole planets in. The Admiral refused to turn his back on his approaching demise for even a second, a decision which Piett couldn’t decide was a wise one or not.</p><p>On the one hand, facing Lord Vader head-on was clearly buying him a few precious seconds. On the other, running like a coward might make it relatively quick and easy if Lord Vader gave into his hunting instincts and went for the kill. And he <em>was</em> hunting, Piett now knew. There was no other word for what he was seeing that didn’t feel like a gross understatement. </p><p>Then Ozzel slipped on the viscera of his former co-conspirators and Piett could nearly see the proverbial trap snap shut as Ozzel made a sudden, flailing movement in an attempt to keep his balance.</p><p>Between one flicker of light and the next, Lord Vader had lunged forward, mantle billowing like the wings of something pulling out of a killing dive, and it was only by either the hunter’s intention or sheer dumb luck that Ozzel managed to scramble away in time, stumbling to the side and making a break for it even as Lord Vader's mask swiveled to unerringly track his every movement. The vocoder and ground and very <em>air</em> crackled to life once more as that horrific voice of millions thundered out another judgement.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>‘Enemy!’</em> </strong>
</p><p>Piett's ears rung with the word until even his eyes saw double vision. The crowd around him began to shriek and panic once more, scattering further and further with every sudden flash of speed that the black specter used to approach his prey.  Piett wished he could join them, but it was like he was frozen to the ground, his body uncooperative with his mind’s urgings for him to run, <em>run now!</em></p><p>It was a cold comfort that Lord Vader seemed disinterested in pursuing any prey that wasn’t the man in front of him. At least for now.</p><p>Ozzel shrieked and stammered as Lord Vader approached, uselessly demanding and begging and <em>ordering</em> that the dark Lord cease this at once, and Piett couldn’t even understand the words anymore as they began to slur together into one, incoherent bleating that pled for his survival. A sound that—</p><p>That wasn’t human anymore.</p><p>Eyes widening in realization and macabre fascination, Piett stared in stunned silence as the Admiral’s mouth began— began <em>melting</em><em>,</em> for lack of better term. Grasping feebly towards his neck, Piett could pinpoint the exact <em>second</em> the man realized what was happening when his fingers sunk into the flesh of his neck, the skin warping and distorting under the pressure like dough. The man’s mouth began to hinge open on one end, his jaw sagging down on one side like a worn-out rubber band, teeth sinking along the liquified jawbone like pebbles in melting snow.</p><p>Ozzel’s hands frantically scrambled to get a grip on his warping facial features, keening out incomprehensible sounds as the flesh merely seeped through his fingers, leaking unhindered through the gaps. The man had bigger issues when he realized that the flesh had quite literally <em>molded</em> itself to his hand, an amalgamation of flesh and bone that couldn’t be unfused now that it had touched.</p><p>Howling out burbling sounds that barely classified as humanoid, let alone human, the man attempted to pull back his hand from the melding mass of flesh, only to stretch his already drooping jaw out like taffy along with it.</p><p>The flesh steadily continued melting, his arm now following suit in a horrific manner, the human sludge spilling out and over the sleeve of the uniform, burying the navy green under mounds of warping, deforming flesh. The whole front of the Admiral had progressed to a slimy, flabby mess of mouth and jaw and tongue dotted with the occasion teeth sinking further and further as the whole upper jaw followed suit with the lower, the sounds produced by Admiral a mess of horrific, gurgling and rasping groans that made Piett wonder what the hell was going on internally if this was what was happening on the outside.</p><p>Melting further and further, Ozzel began to stumble and sink to his knees when he ceased having the bone structure necessary to keep supporting him, but it hardly drew any attention from anyone who could see the man’s face.</p><p>Warping, distorted, the eyes drifting further and further out of their sockets as they flowed along the folds of skin like the tears they normally produced themselves. The mound of gurgling, shrieking flesh that had once been a man was a horrific sight even before certain parts began to bubble and boil, great sores of skin rising in certain places and distorting the thing that had once been Admiral Ozzel even further. Pulsating blisters of who even knew what that accelerated the warping and stretching until not even where Piett had once known a face and head to sit was recognizable anymore.</p><p>Piett stared at the… thing on the floor. It wasn’t humanoid in the furthest of reaches, not even possessing any kind of visible limbs or appendages anymore. There was no face, and the only reasonable counter argument that could be made to that statement was that the slimy and grotesque remains of what was once the internal surface of a mouth now covered the whole front of the thing from the origin point all the way down. Two eyes were a part of the thing, but one was bulging out from somewhere near the floor, and one was where he might have once approximated where the legs would have been, maybe, unable to do anything but weep. It was just… a mound of gurgling, melted, twitching <em>flesh</em> that bore a closer resemblance to a slug, or perhaps a slime mold, than any kind of vertebrae.</p><p>And it had once been Admiral Ozzel.</p><p>His stomach gave another roil and it was a miracle Piett hadn’t lost its contents yet.</p><p>There was no sound beyond that of the thing on the floor as everyone looked on, frozen in place, no one daring to make a move lest they be the next target of his Lordship's wrath.</p><p>One moment, two, an eternity of tensed muscles and fraying nerves as everyone held their breath, hoping—<em>praying</em>—that it was finally over.</p><p>Then something lifted in the air, and a familiar sound broke through the silence once more; the cycling of a respirator.</p><p>With every breath, the lights brightened a little more, the sounds of the world came back, and the shadows stopped disobeying the laws of reality. Piett's racing heart calmed with every cycle, and when the lights not utterly destroyed at last snapped back on and the frost melted off the walls, he dared heave a sigh of relief. It seemed his Lord’s bloodlust had been sated with… <em>this</em>. Still, no one dared move. Not until Lord Vader did.</p><p>And when he did move, Piett thanked whatever was listening that it was only with the usual eerie grace, and not the gait of a predator out for the kill. It was still the stride of someone highly irate and dangerous, but it, at the very least, resembled a humanoid gait once more.</p><p>Turning away from the carnage at his feet, Lord Vader shifted himself into his usual stance once more and Piett breathes a little easier at the familiarity. If someone was going to die now, he doubted they’d shared in Ozzel’s fate.</p><p>Ozzel, who was… still making gurgling and hacking sounds on the floor.</p><p>Piett grimaced. Alive, then. He felt no sympathy for the man, but that was… horrific, to say the least. He had no time to spare for the unfortunate thing on the floor though, as Lord Vader turned to face him and pinned Piett under the full weight of his attention.</p><p>‘I believe,’ the dark Lord began idly, danger in every word, ‘That this resolves the situation of the attempted lockdown breach. And perhaps the necessity for a lockdown as well. Wouldn’t you agree, Admiral Piett?’</p><p>Eyes wide as he registered the title with which he was addressed, Piett couldn’t stop himself from glancing surreptitiously at his apparent immediate predecessor, still twitching and gurgling on the floor. Swallowing as he swiftly glanced back to Lord Vader, he nodded. ‘I will conduct further investigation into the— into Mr. Ozzel’s affairs, my Lord, but I believe— I believe you are right.’ And even if his Lordship wasn’t, Piett doubted that anyone would be stupid enough to continue the conspiracy after seeing or hearing of what kind of fate it would net them. ‘If nothing else,’ he continued carefully, ‘It seems that we now know what to look for in any other conspirators that slipped under the radar.’</p><p>‘Agreed, Admiral,’ Lord Vader rumbled out. ‘Very well then, you have your orders. The duties previously executed by your predecessor now fall to you. Inform all who need to know that Kendal Ozzel is no longer an Officer in the Imperial Navy, or indeed, affiliated with it at all. Dispose of his remains and blacklist his name as a traitor. As for the position of Captain of the Lady, I leave it to your discretion on who you appoint your own previous duties and rank to.’</p><p>Piett's head spun with the new information and he could barely nod. ‘Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.’</p><p>Lord Vader, evidently, was entirely done with the whole situation, and inclined his head curtly. ‘Very well then, Admiral Piett. I leave you to your duties.’ And then, a little louder. ‘All are dismissed.’ With that, the dark Lord swept away, mantle billowing in his wake and dripping the blood and viscera picked up as the edge swept along the ground, leaving a bloody trail of footprints and smears in his wake.</p><p>As the heavy tread faded away into the background, Piett slowly released the breath he felt he’d held the entire time. Most of them had survived. Everyone, in fact, bar the conspirators. It seemed Lord Vader had been disinterested in spreading death any further than he deemed necessary, and considering the target, though Piett thought it a miserable way to die, he knew that they would have been dead men regardless of what methods used.</p><p>No one committed treason aboard the Lady and walked away with their lives.</p><p>Though it unfortunately left him in the uncomfortable position of having to deal with the thing that was once Admiral Ozzel, but clearly, never would be again. That and thirteen other bodies.</p><p>Breathing in deeply, Piett took two seconds to process the fact that he had just been promoted to Admiral, a momentous occasion, over the remains of what once had been his superior and was now barely recognizable as a living being. Then another two to process the— the being, thing, <em>something other</em> that Lord Vader had become in order to do this, and reached the horrifying realization that he had never before seen his Commander truly <em>furious</em>.</p><p>Annoyed, infuriated, vexed, and out of patience? Yes.</p><p>But truly <em>enraged?</em> He didn’t think he could have even imagined what that would be like if he hadn’t just experienced it.</p><p>Just… the manner in which the Lord’s whole demeanor and characteristics had shifted from something that inspired both dread and respect in equal measures, to something that had sparked outright horror and <em>terror</em> was something Piett didn’t doubt he would be thinking about for a long time to come. If only to remember the petrifying realization that Lord Vader had a lethal temper, yes, but his actual <em>wrath</em> was much harder to rouse. To the point that he didn’t think it had ever been seen before by anyone on the Lady.</p><p>He would have to contact Montferrat on the Devastator to see if the man had any insights into this newly realized potential way to die horribly.</p><p>Later.</p><p>First, he had to deal with the… cleanup of Lord Vader's resolution of the previous situation.</p><p>His last two seconds ticked by, and he sighed as he opened his eyes, looking down at the nauseatingly twitching and keening remains of what was once a man. As per his orders, it would need to be disposed of, and the execution carried out to completion to put the thing out of its misery. But how to do it in a humane way?</p><p>Pursing his lips and feeling the weight settle on his shoulders, he made a decision.</p><p>Looking up, he sought out Lieutenant Allter, her tan face unusually pale as she looked at the same thing he had just been looking at. ‘Lieutenant Allter?’ he addressed as evenly as he could, breaking the silence that had reigned since Lord Vader's departure.</p><p>She looked up at him with wide eyes before she visibly regained her composure, nodding determinedly. ‘Yes, sir?’</p><p>‘Please pass orders along to the CMO to send a Medic equipped with the necessary equipment to… ease the passing of the last of the traitors,’ he ordered quietly, barely needing to raise his voice at all to make himself heard. ‘I do not believe Mr. Ozzel will expire on his own, and I do not wish for the morgue to have to deal with this situation.’</p><p>The Lieutenant’s eyes widened as she caught the implication, but her face hardened barely a split second later. ‘Of course, sir,’ she agreed. ‘Anything else?’</p><p>‘No, that will be all, Lieutenant,’ he said with a dip of his head.</p><p>‘Then it shall be done, sir,’ she said as she saluted him, and Piett felt some small amount of comfort in the familiar gesture after all that had happened. ‘If you would, sir?’</p><p>‘Of course, Lieutenant,’ he agreed. ‘Dismissed.’</p><p>She turned on her heel without any further words or expressions and promptly marched off, presumably to place a call in a more private setting and to perhaps take a second or two of her own as well. Not that Piett could blame her. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had just risen several ranks and could feel the stares of all present resting on him, he would have walked off to take a moment himself as well. As it stood though, he couldn’t, and he had work to do.</p><p>He sighed. Dear Force, he had <em>work</em> to do.</p><p>He directed his attention towards the one Medic already present and felt a wave of relief sweep over him as he saw Kix already surveying the carnage with a calculating eye. ‘Medic Kix?’ he addressed, the clone turning sharply towards him with a silent salute. ‘Could you please begin the examination of the corpses and… the remains of Mr. Ozzel to confirm or dismiss my theory? Once your colleagues arrive, I would like for them to be able to proceed on some basis of information instead of having to go in blind.’</p><p>The Medic nodded firmly and didn’t wait for further dismissal or instructions before he pulled two disposable rubber gloves out of his uniform’s dispensary and without so much as a wince or change in expression walked straight towards the nearest body to begin his examination. Concluding that the Medic hardly needed any further assistance from someone who knew next to nothing of medical issues, Piett decided to leave him to it.</p><p>Turning towards the one of the other Officers, he nodded to Commander Cody. ‘Commander, could you be so kind as to place a call to the morgue and inform them to send enough personnel to handle fourteen bodies in… questionable states?’ he asked, mindful of the fact that it would hardly be appropriate to call the bodies FUBAR even as it was the first term that sprang to mind when he saw the broken and mangled corpses of some of the Lady’s highest ranking Officers. Lord Vader had cleaned house, and he would need to replenish the ranks soon enough. Preferably with individuals competent enough to avoid the proverbial headsman’s axe.</p><p>But first, they would need to be registered in the morgue.</p><p>Something the Commander, thankfully, seemed more than capable of arranging. ‘Yes, sir,’ he acknowledged with a quick salute, before activating his comm.</p><p>Slowly, with both Piett and the Commander’s voices filling the air, people began to move and talk again, no longer rooted to the spot, even as Piett didn’t doubt that what they’d witnessed would leave its own roots behind. A massacre, even of traitors, was not so easily forgotten. Especially not an exceptionally cruel and vengeful one like this.</p><p>Ordering the site of the execution quartered off, statements and names to be taken from all present, medical attention to be called for the few individuals who had fainted while witnessing Lord Vader's hunt, and generally ensuring that the transition of Officers would proceed as smoothly as possible, Piett already felt drained by the time he could just take a moment and stand there and slowly work away at the paperwork for Ozzel and the other Officer’s deaths while people milled about him in order to carry out his orders.</p><p>His first orders given as an Admiral. Force, that still didn’t feel real.</p><p>Thankfully, it would likely soon feel all too damn real if the determined look with which Veers was approaching him was any indication. ‘I’m not in the mood for sarcasm, Max,’ he said bluntly as he cut the man off before he could even open his mouth. ‘So I would appreciate it if you just didn’t.’</p><p>Veers snorted but didn’t protest. ‘Then it’s a good thing I’m hardly in the mood either, no?’ he fires back before sobering up. ‘How’re you holding up, Firmus?’ he asked, leaning in and lowering his voice to deter any eavesdroppers.</p><p>‘Tired,’ he answered honestly. ‘Overwhelmed. Horrified. Somehow relieved. Fearing for my life and not. I don’t know, Max. It’s a million things in one and nothing at all at the same time,’ he muttered lowly, keeping an eye on his surroundings even as he tapped away at his datapad. </p><p>Veers made soft sound Piett looked up to find sympathetic eyes. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised, Admiral,’ he retorted with a small grin. ‘I think you just broke the record for worst conditions to receive your promotion under. I can assure you more than one Trooper will be devastated.’ </p><p>Piett stared incredulously at his friend, his mind attempting to comprehend that sentence and getting stuck on the thought that somewhere, somehow, there were people out there envious of him because he’d gotten promoted in the middle of a bloodbath with his former superior gurgling at his feet in a shape that would haunt his nightmares and plague his mind now every time that he thought of Vader executing him. He hoped that his Commander would go back to simply crushing the windpipes of those who had displeased him, because frankly speaking, he was going to have a little trouble dealing with life otherwise, to put it lightly. Even if there were apparently Troopers out there who <em>envied</em> him.</p><p>A thought that suddenly seemed unaccountably hilarious to him.</p><p>First a twitch of the corner of his mouth escaped his control, then a quite snort, and before he knew it, he was snickering quietly to the growing concern of Veers. Eyeing him in concern while he scanned their surroundings, he subtly nudged Piett. ‘You about to snap, Firmus?’ he asked seriously, evidently more than a little concerned for that eventuality and Piett couldn’t blame him.</p><p>It would be the height of inconvenience and perceived weakness for him to snap ten minutes into his role as Admiral. Thankfully, he knew how to keep himself together under tenser situations. Perhaps not much tenser, but he had made it through then, and he would make it through now.</p><p>‘No,’ he honestly told Veers, ‘I’m not. Not yet. I can last at least until the end of my shift. But all bets are off after that, Max.’ Lord Vader had melted a person. Thrice damned <em>Force,</em> Lord Vader had <em>melted</em> a person, and if the reality of that statement wasn’t engraved into the very depths of his psyche by now, he might have even laughed at how utterly ridiculous it sounded. Fanciful and farfetched, something that was told in the barracks to darken an already terrifying figure of legend.</p><p>But it was real. He’d seen it and now he held a dead man’s rank while the remnants of that man were still keening out sounds of pain and despair that rung through the air and had Piett's body in a constant state of fight-or-flight. He studiously ignored the thoughts asking how much of those keens were instinctual, and how many were the result of whatever remains of the thing’s mind were left in there… realizing the situation.</p><p>Force, he needed the catharsis of having a meltdown in his quarters later this evening, or he was going to lose it.</p><p>Something Veers evidently realized as well. Giving him a significant look from the corner of his eye as he looked to observe the Troopers marching around the quartered off part of the hangar, studiously avoiding stepping in the near ubiquitous puddles of blood, Piett thought that he must look exactly as bad as he felt if that was the look he was earning from Veers. ‘If you say so,’ he allowed dubiously.</p><p>Piett snorted quietly, and rearranged his mental state into something less likely to break before the end of his shift, or at least until an acceptable time where he could tap out early and not at somewhere around—he checked the chrono—one thousand hours in the morning. Force, this was going to be one of those days. Still, he had a job to do.</p><p>‘I do say so,’ he retorted easily. ‘I know I’m not at my most convincing at the moment, Max, but I can keep it together at least until the afternoon.’</p><p>‘And then stumble into your room with a glass or two of something strong until you forget what you’ve seen,’ Veers finished, nodding his head in understanding. ‘I get it.’</p><p>Well. Yes, if he was being honest. Though he might just skip straight to passing out on a vaguely soft, flat surface and catch the couple hours of extra sleep that way, nightmares be damned. Perhaps this would all look a lot less daunting once it was a day away. Or perhaps reality might finally fully sink in and he would truly snap. Who knew?</p><p>But he nodded towards Veers anyway, and the man shot him a sympathetic smile that looked closer to a grimace, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll go coordinate the men to see if there are any more of Ozzel’s cronies to scrounge up then,’ he muttered. ‘Just send me the list of any you know and we’ll bring them in for a little chat. Oh!’ he said, and an unholy grin spread over his face that had Piett already feel dread sink into the pit of his stomach for the future. ‘And get the new Admiral a congratulations gift! Any preferences? Dry, medium, sweet?’</p><p>The standard gift for any Officer of significant rank aboard the Lady getting a promotion; a bottle of their vice of choice. Even those like Piett who didn’t usually drink got one and appreciated it. As he could attest, no matter how much one objected to alcohol, there would come a point in every Officer’s career where you just had to deal with or witness something that required a stiff drink. For Piett, there had been far too many of those moments lately, and he once again glanced balefully at the pitiful thing still on the floor a little ways away from him, now being warily examined by Medic Kix who had knelt down next to it. Pitiful it may be, he could hardly forget what it had <em>done</em> in order to earn this state.</p><p><a id="back17" name="back17"></a><em>‘Tihaar,’</em> <a href="#note17"><sup>[17]</sup></a> he answered bluntly, putting the thing out of mind for a moment and directing his attention back to Veers. ‘I think I’ll need it.’</p><p>Veers blinked at him, but nodded easily. ‘Well, at least the men will know where to get some,’ he muttered under his breath, before glancing back at Piett with a nod. ‘Will do. I’ll get going then, but Firmus?’ he said, and Piett took his eyes fully off of the datapad that was still processing his orders. Veers smiled grimly, but dipped his head towards him. ‘No matter how grim, congrats on the promotion. Everyone’ll agree; you earned it more than your predecessor ever could.’</p><p>‘Somehow, Max,’ he retorted drily, ‘I don’t think that is the compliment you make it out to be.’</p><p>‘Anything is a compliment if you simply have the mindset for it, Firmus,’ Veers shot back as he began to walk away, presumably to go find Piett the most over the top and obnoxious bottle of tihaar he could get his hands on in such a short notice. Piett had a feeling he’d be surprised by the ingenuity of that part of the gift regardless. ‘You just need the audacity for it,’ he finished, and then he was gone before Piett could retort.</p><p>Pursing his lips into a thin line at his friend’s conduct, Piett shook his head as he went back to the personnel list on his datapad, looking over the names for those that stood out to him. Fourteen Officers had just been executed, and while the execution of Officers had been relatively common up until only a few months ago, it had still been a matter of one or two executions every two or three months. Which, granted, was still a high enough number that it had given Piett nightmares, but it was much less than he had heard the rumors say. How anyone thought a ship could still be run at the efficiency Lord Vader demanded if they went through Officers at a rate fast enough that not even the Imperial Academies would be able to keep up in training, never even mind the lost experience, he would never know.</p><p>Fourteen Officers in quick succession as had just happened was as unprecedented as it was terrifying. Though he couldn’t say that it was in any way surprising considering the crime which they had committed, it still left a power vacuum of considerable size within the Lady’s hierarchy, especially considering how high ranking some of the Officers had been. They would need to be replaced, and fast.</p><p>Preferably with people who weren’t incompetents, and weren’t elitist and xenophobic to the point of plotting murder and treason. The first to save him from teeth clenched collaboration, the second to save them from Lord Vader's wrath. Though the first requirement would save them as well, he supposed.</p><p>Unfortunately, <em>he</em> wasn’t Lord Vader, and if he were to promote anyone a sudden—and he honestly was only just beginning to wrap his head around this—<em>five ranks</em> there would be <em>riots</em>. So, many of the Officers he had in mind, while he could recommend them to fill the spaces left behind by the Officers that would be promoted to the new vacancies, wouldn’t be able to rise that far through the ranks <em>just</em> yet.</p><p>Unless he made a list of suggestions and sent them through to Lord Vader for approval.</p><p>Sometimes he loved loopholes.</p><p>So engrossed was he in figuring out who to promote to where, and why, that he didn’t notice Commander Cody approach until the Commander was nearly upon him.</p><p>‘Sir,’ the Commander said as he saluted, ‘The Medics and Coroners have arrived, sir.’ Ah. On with the grim duty then.</p><p>‘Thank you, Commander,’ he said as he mentally prepared himself to have to deal with the remains of his ex-colleagues and currently-deceased traitors. Looking up, he spotted fourteen of the on-board ambulances entering the main hangar, pulling up right to the edge of the perimeter. Immediately Medics and Coroners started unloading from the modified speeders, and Piett was once again struck by the scale of what had happened.</p><p>The Lady had over six hundred on-board ambulances, but to see even three in the same place was a sign that things had gone horribly wrong. To see fourteen? It… brought into perspective what had just happened.</p><p>Signaling for the Commander to join him, Piett walked over to the most senior Medic present that he could spot, a woman with hard lines in her face, severe eyes, and snow-white hair that contrasted sharply against her dark complexion. Approaching her, he cleared his throat. She looked over towards him and saluted firmly, her severe expression never wavering. ‘Captain Piett,’ she greeted curtly. ‘Medic Kalleero, at your service.’</p><p>Wincing as he realized he still had the wrong bars pinned to his chest, Piett saluted back. ‘I’m afraid it’s Admiral now, Medic Kalleero,’ he corrected easily, ‘I… haven’t had the time yet to change uniform, as the promotion was… rather sudden.’</p><p>She gave him a long look, eventually nodding in understanding. ‘He finally went too far, hm, sir?’ she said knowingly, and Piett didn’t want to know just how bad Ozzel’s reputation had to be that that statement was accepted so readily.</p><p>‘To say the least,’ he confirmed. ‘As it turned out, Mr. Ozzel was the head of the conspiracy with the aim of killing Head Engineer Lars, alongside thirteen of the Lady’s other highest-ranking Officers. Their plot was recently discovered, and Lord Vader was present. They were summarily dealt with.’</p><p>Kalleero grimaced in sympathy and nodded her head. ‘Can’t say I’m too surprised, sir,’ she told him frankly. ‘There were always going to be those who can’t stand that others <em>earn</em> what was handed to them.’ She glanced over towards the remnants of the bloodbath behind him. ‘So that’s what’s left of the idiots who got it into their heads to try and murder the Lady’s Sun?’ Piett nodded and there was something gratifying in her harsh scoff as she shook her head in disappointment, muttering something distinctly uncomplimentary sounding under her breath in another language.</p><p>‘Quite so,’ he agreed with her in a mutter, something that earned him a slight, but vicious smile. He adjusted his stance and the datapad in the crook of his arm as he sobered up once more. ‘However, their… remains must still be dealt with, and thanks to Lord Vader's rather—’ he searched for the appropriate word, coming up blank save for the most non-descriptive one, ‘—<em>unique</em> method of execution this time around, I’m afraid that one of them is still… alive, in a manner of speaking.’</p><p>‘Unique method of execution?’ Medic Kalleero asked immediately, jumping on Piett's hesitancy and reading the situation quite accurately. ‘I take it something else was reserved for the idiot rather the massacre I can still see from here?’</p><p>He nodded, feeling his expression twist up in disgust somewhat. ‘If you have the necessary compounds to put someone out of their misery, I suggest we proceed to them immediately.’</p><p>Medic Kalleero raised an eyebrow at his admittedly rather evasive description of the situation, but turned towards the team of Medics still working behind her, barking out a couple of orders for them to join her, to bring the requested lethal injection, and get out the emergency privacy screens. The last directive in particular was one Piett was grateful for. If at all possible, he wasn’t watching this.</p><p>When she’d given the last order, she looked back towards Piett and gave him a significant look. Catching the message, he gestured his head towards the place where Kix was likely still investigating the thing. ‘Please, follow me, Medic.’</p><p>Swiftly turning around on his heel, he walked off with haste, passing the perimeters easily and hearing the footsteps of various medical personnel closely behind him. As they approached the place where the melted monstrosity that was once both an Admiral and a man laid, he heard gasps and hissed curses arise from behind him, all of which he ignored.</p><p>‘Fire of the gods,’ he heard Kalleero mutter behind him. ‘What <em>is</em> that thing?’</p><p>‘That,’ he said lowly, ‘Is apparently what happens when Lord Vader becomes truly <em>enraged</em> and chooses to take his time.’</p><p>More quiet swearing followed after that statement, and Piett couldn’t find it in himself to ask anyone to clean up their language usage. There truly was no other language appropriate for whatever the hell had happened here. ‘Agreed,’ he muttered under his breath as he stepped up to the uncomfortably large mass of human… something. To be frank, it looked like someone had taken a particularly lumpy and amateurishly shaped pudding, turned it inside out, and then squashed it for good measure.</p><p>Unfortunately, nothing about it was even half as innocuous as that comparison implied.</p><p>Something he was sharply reminded of when he once more had to approach the truly disgusting and horrific thing to talk with Medic Kix, who was still knelt down beside the mound of flesh and cautiously attempting to study it with a hydrospanner and screwdriver he had clearly requisitioned off of one of the nearby Engineers. Considering what had happened when Ozzel had attempted to touch his own melting flesh, Piett could only think it a wise precaution.</p><p>‘Medic Kix,’ he greeted as he walked up, ‘Any progress?’</p><p>The Medic looked up towards him and the Medics behind him with a serious expression and dropped the tools as he stood up with a quick salute. ‘Some,’ he admitted, ‘But you likely won’t like it, sir.’</p><p>‘There is little about this situation to like, Medic,’ he retorted, ‘Please, your findings.’</p><p>Kix grimaced as he glanced at the thing besides him. ‘Well, I can confidently say that the flesh is far sturdier and hardier than it was during the—for lack of better term—fusion phase. Either that, or only his own flesh was able to fuse with his flesh at the merest touch like it did during the transformation.’ He crossed his arms and scowled at the thing below him. ‘Furthermore, there is the definite presence of hard structures underneath the amalgamation of fat, skin, and muscle, but it’s flexible, and in a usual situation, my best guess would be that it’s cartilage. However, considering the <em>actual</em> situation, I find it more likely that the skeleton has undergone some kind of transformation as well, making it more flexible and brittle.’ Kix turned his gaze back towards Piett and his colleagues, something painful in his gaze. ‘Near as I can tell, <em>everything</em> was stretched and fused and molded, external and internal, but I can’t tell anything more unless we’re are able to either do a scan or—’ he cut himself off, but Piett could guess the next word.</p><p>‘Or an autopsy?’ he suggested lightly.</p><p>‘Pretty much, sir,’ Kix agreed.</p><p>He sighed, looking at the thing on the floor. ‘Well, that last one can be arranged. Medic Kalleero and your other colleagues are here to administer the… final dose,’ he said, as he looked towards the elderly woman.</p><p>She took her cue and stepped forward. ‘Euthanasia, to be exact,’ she specified quietly, and then, a little louder, ‘We’ll start setting up the privacy screens now. Sir,’ she said, directing her words towards Piett, ‘Please step back.’</p><p>Obliging to her requested order, Piett stepped a couple of paces back, watching the Medics go about their job. Large, collapsible screens of black cloths were put up and placed around the remnants of Ozzel with speed and efficiency, until the entire horror show was blocked from view.</p><p>When the last screen had been set up and the whole thing was done, Piett watched Medic Kalleero step out briefly to request the needed material, a small, clear plastic case being handed to her and Piett could see a syringe and a couple of small bottles of what he presumed were the cocktail of drugs needed being handed to her. Medic Kix stepped out as well, and quietly conversed with one of the Medics holding a datapad, a glimpse at the screen showing Piett that they had the death certificate ready to be filled out. When the brief conversation was concluded, Kix nodded and stepped aside to let the Medic through, before making his way over towards Piett.</p><p>‘Any moment now, sir,’ he said quietly as he stepped into place besides Piett, observing the black privacy screens in the same manner Piett himself was doing. ‘It might… take a little while longer than expected, since we have no idea what the cardiovascular system looks like anymore, or where the arteries and the veins are in respect to each other, but at least it ought to be a relatively painless death, in some form or another.’</p><p>‘Minor blessings,’ Piett muttered back, and while Kix inclined his head in agreement, nothing more was said.</p><p>They both stood in silence outside of the makeshift medical tent, and listened as, at first, nothing happened. But then, after a moment that seemed to last far too long, the gurgling and keening sounds that had rang through the air almost without pause began to taper off and quiet down. A few moments more, and nothing was heard anymore from the tent, the hangar only filled with the usual noises of activity and only the occasional sound of Medics and Coroners asking each other for help with another body.</p><p>A few moments more, and Medic Kalleero stepped out of the tent and nodded towards them with a grim look. ‘He’s gone,’ was all she said.</p><p>And it was strange to hear that phrase, and know that the man that had made Piett and his underlings’ lives a living hell more than once was truly <em>gone.</em> Even if he had been frankly expecting it ever since he had known the man irritated everyone, up to and including Lord Vader, it was still an odd thing to realize it as reality. Odd, but not impossible.</p><p>He sighed. Still, if Ozzel was truly gone now, all that was left for him to do here was to leave the Medics and Coroners to their tasks and proceed with his own. There was an investigation to conclude, a change of leadership to announce to the crew of the Lady at large, <em>fourteen additional names</em> to blacklist as traitors, a list for their replacements to complete and send through to Lord Vader, and so much more to be done. Truly, it was one of those days.</p><p>Nodding to the two Medics, he began to mentally plot his course towards the bridge and draft his announcement towards the rest of the Lady. ‘Then I’m afraid that concludes my business here,’ he told them apologetically. ‘I leave the rest of the handling of the deceased in your care, and expect a report on the situation when there is any new information. For now, I believe I should proceed to make the announcement of a change in leadership, as well as the recent developments in the investigation—’</p><p>‘Sir!’ a sharp voice cut him off, ringing out from somewhere to his right. ‘Admiral Piett, sir!’ Looking over towards the source of the shouting, Piett saw an Ensign trotting over as fast as he could while still looking moderately dignified, a small, black, reinforced case slung under his arm. The man looked harried and a bit wild-eyed, but determined as could be as he made his way towards him.</p><p>‘Yes, Ensign?’ he acknowledged as the man came to a halt in front of him, saluting sharply. ‘What is the meaning of all this commotion?’</p><p>‘Ensign Ralt, sir!’ he said, still holding the salute, and Piett barely remembered to salute back. To be fair to him, a lot had happened, and a brief slip in protocol could be excused. ‘I was sent to deliver this to you by Lord Vader, sir!’ And with that, he thrust out the reinforced case towards him, holding in outstretched hands that Piett could now see were trembling with nervousness. Ah. Well, that part was at least understandable if Lord Vader had been the one to send this man. He doubted that, for all that his Lordship's bloodlust had been stated, he was in a particularly favorable mood when he made the request of Ensign Ralt.</p><p>Taking the case, he nodded sharply towards the man. ‘Thank you, Ensign Ralt. Were there any other issues that needed to be brought to my attention?’</p><p>‘No, sir!’ Ralt denied quickly. ‘I was merely told that his Lordship said you would need the contents of this case moving forward! That’s all, sir!’</p><p>Leaning back a little at the volume of every “sir” the Ensign produced, Piett attempted a small smile at the man who was clearly attempting to carry out his orders as best as he could, even if he was a little… overzealous in the execution. Something which Piett realized was particularly rich coming from him, but it was the truth nonetheless. ‘Then you are dismissed, Ensign,’ he ordered easily. ‘You may return to your previous tasks.’</p><p>Ralt salute once more. ‘Yes, sir!’ he said, and with that, he spun a perfect one-eighty on his heels and marched off, Piett watching him go with bemusement.</p><p>Shaking his head at the Ensign, he turned his attention towards the case in his hands. Heavier than expected, and cold to the touch, the case was clearly made to withstand more than a scratch or two. And apparently it contained something that Lord Vader believed he would need.</p><p>‘Any idea what it could be, sir?’ Kix asked, curiosity lacing his voice.</p><p>He mutely shook his head, and tilted it back to examine the lock; a simple code cylinder insertion key. Fishing his general code cylinder out of his pocket, he slotted it neatly into the lock, which opened with a click and a pneumatic hiss, the lid springing open just enough to get a finger between it to open it all the way.</p><p>Flicking open the lid, Piett nearly felt his jaw drop as he saw the contents. Resting in a bed of soft black insulation material, were three brand new code cylinders, presumably with updated security clearance codes, and a set of Admiral rank bars to replace his Captain ones, still gleaming with a glossy sheen to the blue and red squares, unlike the ones he had now, which were lightly scratched and even chipped in places with use. In short, everything he needed to look the part of his new rank.</p><p><em>“His Lordship said you would need the contents of this case moving forward” indeed,</em> Piett thought faintly as he examined the delivery. In truth, he had anticipated his shift today being complicated by the fact that he held the rank of Admiral, and yet, without the trappings or security clearance until he got it updated, would have had to reassert that again and again and find all manner of work arounds.</p><p>And apparently, Lord Vader had been one step ahead as per usual, and arranged for the things he would need to nip that issue in the bud.</p><p>To his side, Kix whistled lowly as he spotted the contents. ‘It seems his Lordship is looking out for you, sir,’ he noted as he eyed the Admiral bars. ‘I’d say that’s a blessing if I’ve ever seen one from him.’</p><p>And that was just such a farfetched thing to say that Piett nearly corrected the Medic on the spot except—</p><p>Except he couldn’t. Because a lot of things began to make sense with just those few words. Things that he hadn’t been able to put a finger on.</p><p>
  <em>“As I may remind you, you have my full authorization to carry out any actions you deem necessary to further your investigation. I leave it at your discretion to use that how you see fit. Have I made myself clear?”</em>
</p><p>Things that had seemed innocuous and normal enough, even as he had welcomed them. Things that hadn’t been clear.</p><p>
  <em>“Stay the course, guide the Lady back to her patrol route, and should Admiral Ozzel wish to register any complaints, direct him to me and ignore any further attempts made by him. You have my full permission to bypass his authority in this matter. Do you understand?”</em>
</p><p>Things he hadn’t understood.</p><p>
  <em>“Finish your current task, Captain, cooperate with the Coroner and Forensics as far as your role will extend, but unless a new lead shows itself, you will end your shift. Exhaustion makes for poor work and poorer reasoning. Neither of which we can afford.”</em>
</p><p>Things that had made him think he was crazy for even thinking about them.</p><p>
  <em>“As for the position of Captain of the Lady, I leave it to your discretion on who you appoint your own previous duties and rank to.”</em>
</p><p>Things that made him think that perhaps Lord Vader <em>cared.</em> Cared about more than just one certain Sun on the Lady. He had dismissed them every time as something… fanciful. Something dangerous to think because it would make him drop his guard.</p><p>It was stupid and reckless to think that way, an absolute folly, but he had just seen his Lordship melt a man into nothing less than an abomination because he had— had <em>harmed— </em></p><p>And now he was standing here, with fourteen Officers dead at his feet and yet looking down at a gift that was exactly what he needed to make his burden of the day a little lighter. The contrast in behaviors was as mindboggling as it was true, and it made all kinds of inconvenient and dangerous thoughts resurface as he looked at the code cylinders and bars, vying for his attention and reconsideration as he couldn’t even bother to dredge up the will needed to banish them again.</p><p>Inconvenient and dangerous, that they certainly were, but perhaps also…</p><p>With Medic Kix’s words ringing through his head and a minor blessing in his hands, he cautiously wondered if he had been wrong not to trust his instincts in that matter.</p><p>Turning the thought over in his head a couple of times, he took the case to the nearest flat surface at somewhat level height for him and placed it down. With his hands running on autopilot, he took his current code cylinders out of his breast pockets, and replaced them with the new ones, checking the small infographic symbols engraved on them to put them in his preferred order. Then, with easy, practiced movements that spoke of his decades of service to the Empire, he unclipped his Captain’s bars from his chest for the last time, and instead clipped on the glossy new bars that denoted him as an Admiral in the Imperial Navy.</p><p>
  <em>Admiral Piett. </em>
</p><p>He could get used to that.</p><p>As he placed his old, scratched, and well-worn rank designations into the vacant spaces within the case, he thought that he might just live to see next year after all. Working with Lord Vader would never truly be easy, even if he was beginning to suspect that his Commander perhaps <em>didn’t</em> necessarily want him dead on principle.</p><p>That was more than fine with him. He had never wanted easy from the moment he signed up for the Navy. But it was in moments like this that he was reminded that while working with his Commander was far from easy, it wasn’t <em>impossible.</em> And while he had seen many people fail to keep the positions like the one he now held with lethal consequences, he had also seen people climb the ranks of the Lady unimpeded by Lord Vader's strict standards and will, he himself being one of them.</p><p>He sighed as he drummed his fingers against the side of the case. He didn’t have time to be introspective, he <em>really</em> didn’t. There was work to be done, announcements to make, and the smell of blood still hung so thick in the air around him that it made the back of his mouth taste like old electronic wires. He didn’t have the <em>time</em>.</p><p>But he also felt himself teetering on the edge of a breakdown and he had a sinking feeling that two seconds weren’t going to make the cut this time.</p><p>Taking in a deep breath as he made his decision, he closed his eyes, shot a quick plea for something, <em>anything</em> out there to send him some strength, and let the seconds tick by as began to set his thoughts in a row.</p><p>Lord Vader rewarded ingenuity, competence, and <em>success,</em> even as he punished failure and incompetence with a harshness that was as infamous as it was cruel. That much was fact. But if there was one thing that Piett had learned over the years, it was that Lord Vader was, above all else, <em>fair</em> in his judgements. He gave what he got and judged on merit and merit alone. Which… was nearly a unique trait within the Imperial Armed Forces upper brass as far as he could tell, showing itself only in Death Squadron’s Officers and a handful others for reasons that seemed… obvious in hindsight.</p><p>And Piett knew that his Commander was hated for it by most Officers above a certain rank within the Armed Forces. Hated and <em>feared.</em> But below those ranks…</p><p>Below those ranks he was quite nearly <em>worshipped</em> by the Crewmates and the Troopers. He was feared, yes, but also respected and dare-he-say <em>loved</em> as a Commanding Officer by the lower ranks. He knew the reasons, of course, had heard the rumors like any Officer who had risen through the ranks from nothing and had been a part of those lower ranks, unlike many of the upper brass.</p><p>The rumors that said Lord Vader had believed the word of common soldiers over even those of generals. That nothing in one’s background or origin matter to him as long as they performed their duties and performed them well. The rumors that said he led from the front and acted living barrier for those that came behind him, drawing the enemies’ fire that couldn’t hurt him, but may kill a lesser man thrice over.</p><p>Yes, Piett knew the rumors.</p><p>But he had been brought into Death Squadron a higher-ranking Officer already, and from the moment he had stepped aboard he knew that he would have to be quick on his feet or end up dead on a slab. He had never had the chance to experience for himself whether those rumors were true or not. Whether or not Lord Vader's lethal hostility towards certain types of Officers was born, not out of a wanton hatred for those holding the ranks, but because he couldn’t— <em>wouldn’t</em> stand for the lives of the lower ranks being used as stepping stones for those above them. As many of the upper brass unfortunately often seemed inclined to do.</p><p>It was only a rumor, but matched with the behavior Piett had seen, and with what the Lord actually considered <em>failure</em> instead of what would be considered failure in the rest of the Navy… He couldn’t help but wonder if the rumors didn’t hold a grain of truth in them.</p><p>Because if that was the case, Piett could understand all too well why his Lord reacted with murderous brutality towards those that he did.</p><p>He would have to go over his memories of past executions and perhaps request the execution notices of the Officers who had lost their lives to Lord Vader's temper and take note of the reasonings given there—if they were given at all—but if his theory proved correct and if it lined up with the realization that was beginning to form within his mind…</p><p>Perhaps he would be able to survive service under Lord Vader's direct command with more ease than he ever could have imagined.</p><p>If Lord Vader's lethal ire truly fell most often upon the Officers that endangered their underlings and chased glory instead of fulfilling their responsibilities as a leader first and foremost, then Piett's best course of actions was simply to be the best possible Admiral he could be—not from the standpoint of a career or recognition—but from the standpoint of a leader. Which… nearly seemed so simple a requirement that he categorically refused to believe it true until he had done his research.</p><p>But if it <em>was</em> true…</p><p>If it was true, then Piett had a better chance of survival than he ever could have dreamed.</p><p>If it was true, none of the Officers he wished to elevate through the ranks needed to fear for their lives. Not if they had the simple common decency to treat their underlings as a <em>responsibility</em> instead of minions. Not if they earned their rank through merit rather than pedigree.</p><p>It was a radical idea, and one that had Piett nearly shaking at the thought of it, but the idea… strangely didn’t seem that far-fetched the more he thought about it. Lord Vader promoted merit. Would it really be that much of a stretch to assume that one of those merits was the ability to keep one’s men alive by virtue of not sacrificing them needlessly?</p><p>Nervous and more than a little lightheaded with the thought that he might have just cracked the code, Piett shook himself out of his thoughts and took note of the time that had passed. Several minutes. An eternity when it came to the Lady’s mechanisms and a dangerous indulgence when in a situation as tense as this. Later. There would be time to think on this later.</p><p>True or not, there was one sure-fire way to keep one’s life under Lord Vader's command, and that was to perform one’s tasks and perform them well.</p><p>He still had work to do. He had an investigation to conclude, Officers to consider, and the Lady’s crew at large to notify of who would be responsible for them from now on. A responsibility that weighed heavily in the little plaque on his chest.</p><p>But if the responsibility Lord Vader expected him to carry out was truly and simply what Piett suspected it was, then it was a weight he bore gladly.</p><p>Clicking the case shut and with it, the last remnants of his lingering life before… <em>everything</em>, Piett set out to work away at the orders that had been given to him, one bit at a time. And, as he walked towards the elevators and railcar station, he thought that even as the responsibilities weighed on him heavier than ever before, his heart felt lighter than it had in years.</p><p>His path would be difficult as the new Admiral of the Lady.</p><p>But, as Lord Vader had just reminded him with a timely gift of aid, <em>far</em> from impossible.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><ol>
<li>
<a id="note17" name="note17"></a>[17] <em>Tihaar:</em> A strong, clear Mandalorian spirit, usually thrice distilled and brewed from any kind of fruits on hand. The taste of every Tihaar was unique to the producer or even individual batch, but one of the characteristics every bottle of Tihaar should have is that it leaves a strong, burning sensation in your nose and throat as you drink it and should be strong enough to properly clean wounds with. <sup><a href="#back17">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>The Summary:</b>
</p><ol>Vader, thoroughly enraged, uses the Dark to commit horrific acts upon the conspirators while his demeanor shifts to that of what seems to be closer to an enraged beast or animal. One word sentences, spoken in a voice that sounds like a million voices speaking at once, while he essentially flash-steps in sudden bursts of erratic speed as he toys with the conspirators he's hunting.</ol>
<ol>Each of them meets a grisly end curtesy of the Dark, none, however, meet a more grisly end than Ozzel, who is melted by Vader using the Dark in a transformation horror scene played straight. 
Once that is done and over with, he calms down again, promotes Piett on the spot while giving him various orders, and returns to Luke's side while still covered in gore and viscera.</ol>
<ol>Piett compartmentalizes like a champ while arranging the clean up, stands by while the still-alive-Ozzel is finally put out of his misery via lethal injection, and after all that is over with, receives a gift from Vader that contains code cylinders and Admiral-rank bars to help him through the rest of his day without hassle.</ol>
<ol>This gift, together with a comment from Kix, forces Piett to revaluate several of his ideas about Vader, as he realizes that the contrast between said actions makes little sense unless Vader cares in some form or manner. This revelation, couple with his already shaken mental state, inspires him to take just a few minutes to sort out his thoughts instead of compartmentalizing.</ol>
<ol>An act which makes him realize that the only times he's seen Vader kill someone, most of the times it was for an action that would or did get other people killed, not simple hate. Shaken by this new hypothesis that goes against much of the commonly held view on Vader, but unwilling to immediately dismiss it as a possibility, he resolves to test it out while he heads back into his work, bolstered by the idea that despite what he just witnessed, Vader might not be out to kill him just on principle.</ol><p>Whether you needed the summary or not, I hope you had a great time nonetheless, and I will see all of you incredible people next Sunday. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Sanctify</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke wakes up, Vader is there, and a small rebellion is had by both. Sometimes the greatest things start not with blood, but with heart, and the trust that another won't break it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ladies, Gents, and Honors, welcome back! It sounds like I rather gave you all a fright last chapter, no? Well, fear not, for the worst is over, and we are back to our regularly scheduled father-son shenanigans! Let us begin, and as always, <i>enjoy.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <b>The Trigger List:</b></p><ol>
  <li>Potential trigger for trypophobia (The connection ports in Luke's arm)</li>
</ol></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up groggy and fuzzy but cared for and safe was becoming something of a pattern these last few days, Luke noted idly as he came back to awareness tucked into a warm and soft pile of blankets and pillows.</p><p>His mind may be fuzzy, but the air hummed with quite comfort and gentle warmth, a familiar darkness looming over him and settled around him like a brooding mother hen. Smiling slightly at the mental comparison his mind conjured up, Luke slowly blinked open his eyes as he looked towards the source of a familiar sound next to him: a cycling respirator.</p><p>And there was Vader, seated at his bedside and towering over him, careful prods of concern brushing up against Luke even as the air was suffused with care and contentment. He smiled up at the man, sleepy eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘You’re here,’ he murmured softly.</p><p>Vader stilled for a moment, just a moment, and carefully reached out a hand to card through Luke's hair, Luke closing his eyes at the gentle, soothing touch. ‘Of course, little star,’ he answered, and there was a hitch in that answer that made Luke open his eyes again and look up in concern. ‘I made a promise, did I not?’</p><p>And there was something, something lurking in that tone and in the air around Vader that had Luke frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, nosing into the hand still carding through his hair, only to pull back sharply as strong smell stung at his nose, sending him into a coughing fit. Vader immediately attempted to start fussing, but Luke pulled up his hand to stop him, coughing the strong, noxious smell out of his lungs. ‘S— Suns,’ he coughed out. ‘What is that <em>smell?’</em></p><p>Vader froze mid-attempt to reach out and a flare of embarrassment and sheepishness scorched the air as he pulled his hand back. ‘Ah,’ he said quietly, ‘That would be the… disinfectant.’</p><p>‘Dis— Disinfectant?’ Luke asked, still coughing and sneezing.</p><p>Vader shifted uncomfortably, and embarrassment hung thick in the air, all the more poignant with how strange Vader was behaving. ‘There… was an incident,’ Vader confessed quietly. ‘Several high-ranking Officers tried to breach the lockdown, amongst them Ozzel, who acted as ringleader.’ Luke frowned as he attempted to figure out just how that played into the smell of disinfectant when Vader's next words struck him to the core. ‘Then we received word that evidence had been found on the sabotage investigation. It was Ozzel who had ordered the security data removed.’</p><p>Ozzel.</p><p>
  <em>Fucking Ozzel.</em>
</p><p>He had been the one to—!?</p><p>‘Tell me you killed him,’ he heard his mouth say, shooting upright in his bed as his thoughts went several lightyears a minute, trying to process the fact that the Admiral—the core world snobby <em>asshole</em> who Luke had never done any wrong—had saw it fit to try and— ‘Tell me you killed him, <em>please.’</em></p><p>You didn’t let your Enemy <em>live.</em></p><p>‘He is dead,’ Vader confirmed, ‘And it was not quick or merciful.’ He gently placed a hand on Luke's chest and pushed lightly, pressing him firmly, but carefully, back into the soft comfort of the bed. ‘Rest now, little one, he will never again harm another soul. And he will never again harm <em>you.’</em></p><p>And maybe it should have bothered Luke more that Vader had apparently made an ordeal out of the execution. If you had to kill someone, you had to be quick about it and not waste any time getting fanciful, though with the sheer power Vader had under his command, perhaps he could get away with indulging a little in the hunt. Still, <em>maybe</em> it should have bothered Luke.</p><p>But Ozzel had made himself Luke's Enemy, him and anyone who had thrown his lot in with him in an attempt to off Luke. In the end, an Enemy was someone you couldn’t afford to leave alive, and if Vader had taken the initiative, despite what methods he used, Luke was going to be grateful for his mentor and Home to have expended the energy and time on his behalf to get rid of the sun stung jackass.</p><p>So he allowed Vader to push him back into his overlarge and fluffed pillow, and tuck him back in, even as the scent of disinfectant pricked at his nose. Letting the brief tension that had flared inside him bleed out more and more the further he sunk back into the warm bed, Luke made himself comfortable again. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly when he looked back up at Vader, once more lying flat. ‘As many times as the Moons watched over me.’</p><p>Something hitched in Vader's voice, and Luke knew that the sentiment had been received. ‘And may they always guide you back to me when you need aid once more,’ Vader whispered back, sincerity and surprise blazing around him as bright as a bonfire. ‘It was no trouble, little one, truly.’</p><p>Luke smiled softly at the man, and then let it shift into something more mischievous. ‘That still doesn’t answer my question though,’ he pointed out. ‘Why do you smell like someone emptied out a bucket of disinfectant over you?’</p><p>Immediately the embarrassment returned in full force, and Luke snickered quietly as Vader visibly stiffened. Evidently, whatever had happened in between him killing Ozzel and him returning to Luke's bedside was as horribly undignified as it was cleaning. ‘I do not see how this is relevant,’ his mentor attempted to deflect.</p><p>‘Well,’ Luke started, cutting in before Vader could say anything else to distract from the situation, ‘For one thing, it’s a horrible stench that’s making me cough like crazy. If I don’t get any idea of what it’s from, I’ll have to assume it’s noxious and ask you to move your chair a few paces back, please,’ he said innocently, his own amusement dancing into the air.</p><p>Vader quietly stared him down for a long while, but if he was attempting to intimidate Luke, he was making a rather lackluster effort of it, as Luke only felt his smile stretch into a grin. With a huff of air and noticeable slump in Vader's shoulders, Luke knew he had won, and he settled back easily into the pillow, awaiting the story.</p><p>‘Very well,’ Vader conceded begrudgingly. ‘If you <em>must</em> know, after I dealt with Ozzel and his lackeys, there was blood on the floor and I had hunted with haste in order to take care of them all in time for me to return to you. By the time I was finished with them, their blood and viscera had soaked into my mantle and coated the lower parts of my suit. The Medics… refused to allow me access to you until I had removed the biohazard from my person. They offered their decontamination chamber for the process, but the tank holding the disinfecting fluid for misting… broke.’ He huffed as he crossed his arms, and Luke had to bit his lip to stop himself from laughing at the mental image of Vader completely soaked in disinfectant as the Medics had most likely rushed around like headless jackrabs, trying to fix the situation. ‘I see that you can draw further conclusions yourself,’ Vader groused, his presences flaring up with mortification and the spiky walls of brooding isolation that aimed to keep everyone out.</p><p>Unfortunately for him, Luke had grown up in a place where every matter of plant life was either toxic, covered in thorns, or covered in toxic thorns. He knew his way around a prickly obstacle or two.</p><p>‘Yup!’ Luke confirmed happily with a chuckle, even as he let his smile soften into something more honest and warm. ‘I’m glad you went through it though, I wouldn’t have wanted to wake up alone after all that,’ he said honestly, quietly. ‘I don’t think I would’ve wanted to wake up anywhere but Home anyway.’</p><p>And that was apparently enough to break through Vader's prickly barrier, as his walls shattered at the touch and left a floundering sense of confusion, joy, and that fragile, burgeoning hope shot through with fire and starlight. ‘I— well, I—’ Vader sputtered, and Luke laughed soundlessly as he saw Vader's guard fling wide open with just the barest touch of honesty on his part.</p><p>Truly, where the man’s overblown fearsome image came from was a mystery to Luke, when it barely took any time and effort at all to find the truth underneath the prickly outer shell.</p><p>Vader, seeing his laughter, fell into silence once more as the air tinged with just the barest hints of mortification, but it was so easily buried under neath the quietly growing security and realization. ‘I,’ he began at last, hesitation still lilting his voice, but no longer grinding him to a halt, ‘Wouldn’t have wanted you to wake up alone either, little one,’ he admitted quietly. ‘Asides from my word given, you are… my Home as well. I would not leave my Home vulnerable during a time like this.’</p><p><em>I would not leave you to face this alone,</em> drifted through the air, the translation Luke so effortlessly felt in his heart, ringing with truth. He beamed brightly at Vader, and, hesitantly, he felt rather than saw the smile returned.</p><p>They sat quietly for a moment, just basking in each other’s presence, and Luke felt all between them still unsaid. Home he may be, but he was still unclear as to what Home meant for either of them. He wanted Vader as his Father. Would Vader want him as his Son?</p><p>Was that even a question he could ask, now that he knew his Home had both a Master and was chainblind?</p><p>Luke was Free. Vader was… not. Not really.</p><p>There was an imbalance there that left a bad taste in his mouth. Even if Vader was willing to Name him his Son, Luke wouldn’t be able to allow it while Vader was still under his Master’s control and chainblind, not without losing his own Freedom. He knew how the Masters worked, and Luke suspected that if he gave the emperor so much as an inkling of a hook in him, he would never be able to work himself Free. Not if he was able to keep the raging storm that was Vader leashed and bound.</p><p>No, Luke wouldn’t be able to ask until Vader could tell him he was Free and truly, deeply <em>mean</em> it. And he hoped that Vader himself wouldn’t ask until then either. As much as he would refrain from asking the man, and as much as he knew it to be an absolutely horrendous idea, he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist saying “yes” if Vader asked to Name him as Son and he him as Father. Even with the threat of it costing his Freedom.</p><p>There was nothing to be done about it at the moment though, and with Luke only barely out of surgery and his mind still a little fuzzy on the anesthetics, he wasn’t quite sure if he was entirely in right mindset to think on it either. First, he would need to heal and adapt to his new life with a prosthesis, <em>then</em> he could pick up the issue of planning a flight for the most high-profile man in the galaxy. He had a feeling that if Biggs was here, he would have already taken one look at Luke's plan, told him “no,” told him he was crazy, and then started calling in the old guard to set up the caches along the trails and get a paper trail going; they had a Flight to run.</p><p>Later though. Later.</p><p>He wouldn’t be able to pull off any kind of Flight in the state he was currently in.</p><p>Healing first. Ruining the emperor’s day and Freeing Vader later.</p><p>He sighed as he opened his eyes again and looked at the ceiling. This was a right mess he had gotten himself into, wasn’t it?</p><p>‘Is there something the matter, little one?’ Vader rumbled off to his side, and Luke turned his head on his pillow to face him, meeting Vader's lenses as the man tilted his head to the side. ‘You are rather morose all of a sudden.’</p><p>‘It’s nothing,’ Luke dismissed, before thinking the better of it. ‘Nothing I want to talk about at the moment, at the very least,’ he corrected quietly before Vader could call him out on the minor lie. The man had as good a nose for them as he did in that aspect.</p><p>Vader rumbled lowly, the sound shaking through the air and Luke's chest in a series of tremors that were oddly soothing. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope you will know to come to me when you <em>are</em> ready, Luke.’</p><p>The corner of his mouth pulled up into a slight smile, and he briefly squeezed his eyes shut in the closest approximation of a nod that he could manage while laid out on his side. ‘Of course,’ he agreed easily, honestly. ‘When I’m ready.’</p><p>‘When you are ready,’ Vader echoed in agreement. ‘Until then, I believe it is almost time to refresh your bandages, little one.’ With that, Vader turned towards the nightstand next to his bed and picked up a stainless-steel medical tray that contained a supply of bactapatches and bandages that Luke's mind instantly translated as a fortune in a tray, even as he realized that he was once more thinking by the standards of Tatooine and the hutt market, not the Lady. The Lady, where apparently top shelf bacta was in a common enough supply that they could give the truly high-grade stuff even to the head of a non-combative Corps. Even as on Tatooine the stuff was considered mostly a myth.</p><p>He hadn’t realized it when he had first been woken up in the recovery ward, but to heal from the injuries like Mira and Tai’li had described to him in ten hours didn’t really seem… possible with the properties of bacta that he knew of. It should have taken him <em>days</em> in that tank, even with the highest grade bacta. The fact that it had taken hours, well, that spoke of a kind of grade that he doubted even the hutts had access to. Which was just… mindboggling to him. Especially since he had apparently been deemed worthy of it despite the fact that little would’ve been lost if they’d let his recovery take days instead of hours.</p><p>And now Vader was holding more of it, fresh bactapatches that would be used to complete the surgery he had woken up from and of which he still hadn’t thought to ask to see the results as distracted as he had become. Vader, evidently, had no such issue.</p><p>Placing the tray in his lap, Vader carefully reached out towards Luke and gently wedged a hand between his back and the mattress, pulling him upwards, Luke letting it all happen with something of a bemused look. ‘My apologies for this, little one,’ Vader rumbled softly, ‘But I would not be able to change your bandages if you were fully laying down, so we will need to adjust your angle of recline to a more suitable position.’</p><p>‘You could have just asked me to get up,’ he pointed out, still lying limp in Vader's grasp, not making any move to do what he had just suggested he do. Vader stilled for a moment, just a moment, before continuing to carefully draw Luke up to a more agreeable angle, even if the air was tinged with the embarrassment of someone who got called out with no way to defend themselves.</p><p>Luke laughed silently, but refrained from teasing the man any more than that. It didn’t take a genius to realize that, given half a chance, Vader was an extremely tactile person with those he trusted, and would take nearly any chance to offer and receive a comforting touch. Luke hardly knew how much of it he could feel through his suit and armor, and how much of that was a pleasant sensation, but since Vader actively sought it out, he figured it couldn’t be too awful a sensation, and was loathe to deny the man. Especially since he himself was admittedly a rather tactile person as well.</p><p>Lying limp in Vader's grasp, Luke felt the man reach out to stuff a pillow behind him and keep him level, letting him sink back against the pillow, now reclining instead of lying flat. As he let a bit of a smile dance around his mouth, Luke looked onas Vader drew back, having successfully propped Luke up to, ostensibly, change his bandages.</p><p>Still holding the tray in his lap, Vader held out an expectant hand towards Luke. ‘Your right arm, if you would, little one.’</p><p>‘I thought the Medics would be the ones to do this kind of thing,’ Luke muttered with amusement, holding out his right arm, still oddly numb and tacky where it ended in a— in a stump. He knew that was the bacta at work now, but it was still a thoroughly strange sensation. ‘Or did you bully them into letting you do it despite the fact that they’re the professionals here?’</p><p>Vader made an affronted noise as he softly wrapped a hand around Luke's arm, drawing it in. ‘I did no such thing,’ he denied. ‘After their blunder, they were merely willing to make a concession or two to our mutual benefit. One of them being that I would not have to be privy to more of their incompetence.’</p><p>Luke rolled his eyes, but allowed the man to begin plucking at the thick white bandages wrapped securely around his arm, keeping the bactapatches in place. ‘Mhmm,’ he agreed, doubt thick in his voice, ‘Sure they did.’</p><p>Vader offered no further comment as he found the end of the bandage and began carefully unwrapping the stump, revealing the clear plastic patches that held a thin sheet of the gel-like substance to Luke's arm, now slightly cloudy and off-color with use. Holding the patches to Luke's stump with a gentle hand until the last of the bandage fell away, Luke watched in astonishment as something hummed around them, shivering in ripples that reached down his very marrow as the white cloth coiled upwards into the air like a rising snake. The tray in Vader's lap joined the aerial dance, and the bottom part of the tray detached, revealing it to have been two trays stacked on top of each other. The tray full of fresh bacta and bandages floated back down from where it had come from, but the empty tray flew off towards the nightstand, the used bandages trailing after it like streamers until they all neatly packed inside the tray.</p><p>Watching the spectacle with wide eyes and a slack jaw, Luke didn’t register the bacta patches being peeled off of his stump with careful fingers until Vader was nearly halfway done. Jerking his attention back towards the matter at hand, he distantly thought why he even bothered to be surprised anymore by Vader. His mentor was a mystery, and with every tidbit Luke learned about him and his past, he had the feeling that the picture being painted only became wilder and wilder. He really should just stop being surprised by the fact that apparently Vader really was the wizard he and Biggs had always thought Old Ben was.</p><p>When the bactapatches at last fell away entirely and neatly folded themselves up while they flew through the air to join the bandages, Luke didn’t even blink. Instead, he watched curiously as Vader took a soft, plush little towel out of the tray and began wiping away at the bacta residue. Something which, for all that Luke could see that the towel was practically criminally soft, still jarred oddly at his skin and what lay underneath as it touched certain spots. It took a moment for the sensation to process in his mind, but once it did, he realized with a start that he had to be feeling the ports that had been implanted within him.</p><p>Nervous, jittery energy coursed through him, and he could hardly wait until Vader had carefully wiped away the last traces of the bacta to pull his arm back, eager to inspect just what the hell had been done to him.</p><p>Bringing his arm up to his face, he could finally see the infamous neural-connection ports.</p><p>Like Vader had said, most of them really weren’t that large, dozens of gleaming little metal rings  that dotted the skin of his stump in a gridwork, each about the size of a pinhead if not smaller. Drawing his stump even closer, he could see the light fall into the indentations within the little ports, tiny cylinders where the connector rods of a prosthesis could plug into like a code cylinder into a lock. Quick, easy, and painless was the way Tai'li had described it, at least once his prosthesis of choice had been properly integrated.</p><p>The only ports he could see that were of any kind of larger size were the ones he presumed were connected to his radius and ulna, each the size of half a credit chip, and attempting to turn his forearm only confirmed it. The two ports rotating around each other in time with his bones in a display that had Luke both fascinated and just a tad nauseous at the sight of what was essentially his <em>bones moving.</em> The ports were much deeper than the miniature ones, and Luke could see how they were meant to anchor the prosthesis. He didn’t doubt that once a prosthesis locked into them, it would be just as sturdy as his actual bones.</p><p>He huffed out a breath as he brought up his other hand to lightly thumb over the ports, shivering at the odd sensation of feeling something shift and <em>move</em> underneath his skin. It wasn’t painful, and in the end they could only move enough that Luke could feel it, not even see it, but it was still… strange to think of them as now a part of him. For the rest of his life.</p><p>‘Are they… to your liking?’ Vader asked from the side, and Luke looked up towards him briefly before directing his gaze back to the numerous little chips and bits of metal littering his stump in a not-quite-perfect grid. Chewing at the inside of his mouth, Luke looked long and hard at them. <em>Did</em> he like them?</p><p>First instinct was to say “no, of course not.” They were a necessity, implants forced upon him because an ex-Admiral couldn’t handle Luke being alive without his ego needing a homicidal boost. He would need to look into that too. If Ozzel had been a genuine threat and Luke had missed the warning signs because they were different than those on Tatooine, he would need to learn <em>fast.</em> Because while right now he was alive and Ozzel was dead, Luke had still ended up with all these <em>fucking</em> implants in him and—</p><p>He breathed deeply.</p><p>He could admit to himself that it wasn’t the implants he was angry with. Just what they represented. The loss of his arm to a half-baked scheme of a danger he hadn’t even clocked because apparently the signs he had become used to in the Desert were useless aboard the Lady. That anger would be there for some time to come, boiling away within him, but underneath it he could already feel his acceptance of the situation settle in.</p><p>The ports, in and of themselves, were fine. They jutted out only the tiniest bit, barely more than a millimeter, and the metal had a nice, slightly reddish tint to it that made the ports blend in more with the skin around them. It was rather disturbing to be able to look right down the two anchoring ports and know that he was looking <em>into</em> his arm, but then again, once he had a prosthesis, he wouldn’t really have to.</p><p>‘I don’t think I can say I like them,’ he told Vader quietly. ‘Not yet. Not while everything is so fresh.’ He breathed in deeply as he thumbed over one of the neural-connection ports, feeling the odd sensation of it moving mere fractions of a millimeter and yet not hurting at all. ‘But I don’t mind them,’ he continued, just a bit louder. ‘I don’t mind them, and I think, that with enough time, I’ll mind them even less.’ He looked up towards Vader, and let his arm fall down to his chest. ‘Good enough an answer?’</p><p>‘More than,’ Vader answered as he held out his hand once more, and Luke placed his stump within his grip without hesitation. ‘And very understandable,’ he said as he began examining the stump. ‘I cannot think of a single person who would not need some time to process the loss of a limb.’</p><p>‘It’s not even the fact that I lost it,’ Luke cut in before he could think about it. ‘Or rather, it <em>is</em> that,’ he amended, ‘But the <em>anger</em> comes from the fact that Ozzel thought this whole thing up and just… <em>went through with it.’</em> He scoffed as he remembered his last interaction with the man, a little over a week ago. <em>“Watch me,”</em> he’d said. A claim that he could be better than what Ozzel had pegged him as. And that had been enough for the man to tip over and try to have him killed. Someone refusing to lie down and just take his abuse.</p><p>What an utterly pathetic egotistical <em>bastard.</em></p><p>‘He just— I didn’t even clock him as an Enemy!’ he growled out in frustration. ‘I was a damn <em>runner,</em> it was my fucking <em>job</em> to spot dangers before they became an issue. And I just <em>missed</em> this!?’ He threw his head back and rested it on the pillow, utterly frustrated with the situation.</p><p>‘There is no shame in misjudging the character of someone, little one,’ Vader reminded him softly. ‘It happens to all of us, and it is rarely reflective on ourselves.’</p><p><a id="back18" name="back18"></a>‘Too bad it cost me my fucking <em>hand</em>,’ Luke bit out, frustration and anger still boiling in his veins without a target to direct it at, Ozzel’s ghost still taunting him. Luke glared at the ceiling. What he wouldn’t give for a japor snippet and a bonfire right about now. <a href="#note18"><sup>[18]</sup></a></p><p>Vader made a low sound and rubbed small circles into Luke's arm with his thumb, Luke closing his eyes to focus on the sensation and attempting to calm himself, at least for now. ‘That too is a feeling I know all too well, little one,’ Vader muttered quietly, and Luke nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he looked over.</p><p>‘You do?’</p><p>‘Yes,’ Vader confirmed as he prodded at the ports with a light touch, testing the skin around them, ‘I do.’</p><p>Luke swallowed as he felt the looming impact of that statement gather above his head like thunder clouds. Vader, who had four prostheses and was made up out of more machinery than flesh per his own admittance, knew what Luke felt like.</p><p>Who the hell could have done this?</p><p>‘What—’ he began, having to clear his throat as it suddenly felt unbearably dry and hoarse. ‘What happened?’</p><p>Vader looked up at him briefly before directing his gaze back towards the ports, and for a moment Luke thought he wouldn’t get an answer but—</p><p>‘Can you keep a secret, Lukkesh?’ Vader asked quietly, and Luke's eyes flew open as lightning crackled through his blood at the sound of his Heart Name. That— That was not something to Invoke lightly. And it had been so long since Luke had heard the Name given to him by the Storm when he first set foot on the Flightpaths and chased their winds towards Freedom, hundreds of his Siblings trailing in his wake as he ran throughout the years.</p><p>Lukkesh. Blessing of Keshtra. A Heart Name. A Runner’s Name. A Name spoken with care, or not at all.</p><p>A Name only a Child would know to read out of Luke.</p><p>He clenched his jaw as he looked at his Home, and nodded. ‘I can. Tell me how.’</p><p>‘A secret,’ Vader promptly answered, ‘That I ask you keep within your heart unless I am no longer there to release you from your Vow.’ <em>Unless I die, you may not speak of it. </em> </p><p>Luke had no idea what Vader could want to disclose that would require such a long-lasting Vow, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to become a secret keeper to his Home. Not when the man was finally opening up of his own volition.</p><p>He breathed deep, and drew up the words steeped in something older and wilder than he would ever understand, the words that had been poured into his very marrow when he had first stepped onto the Flightpaths, and swore his pact to the Desert and Keshtra and all that they entailed.</p><p><em>‘I, Lukkesh, runner of the Flightpaths, and Runner of Keshtra, hereby swear a Vow,’</em> he stated, his mouth forming the musical and lilting tones of the oldest tongue the Children knew; Karilaa. Thunder echoed through his head as it sang through every fiber of his being, something ancient and devastating turned its attention on him, images of the Suns reddened by flying sand and even the mighty laid low flashing through his mind.</p><p><em>‘I Vow to hold the secret entrusted to me within my heart until the one whom I swear it to rests amongst the Moons,’</em> he stated, clear and certain even as images of pitch black nights flashed through his mind with the lightning in his veins, scouring it like the sand did the domes of the Homestead when the Sandstorm howled loudly.</p><p><em>‘I Vow that none will hear it from my mouth unless I am released from my Vow or may Keshtra take me,’</em> he stated, something tightening and locking into place around him, urging him to finish, to finalize, to Invoke and Speak into Existence. Desert and Storm, Desert and Storm, gentle they were not, but kind they could be. One must never betray one’s word though. Not where it <em>matters.</em></p><p><em>‘So I Vow it to be,’</em> he finished, and like a storm blowing over, like sand settling, like clouds fading away, the air around him cleared, and his words drifted away with the departing presence like they were never his to begin with.</p><p>He knew better than to think that they wouldn’t return with devastating force if he was ever foolish enough to break his Vow. Still, he wouldn’t be the judge of if it was sufficient or not.</p><p>Red lenses looked him in the eyes, and while Vader was usually an open book, right now Luke could hardly tell what the man was thinking. Luke had given as good as he got though, and he held the gaze evenly as he waited for the judgement of whether or not it would be good enough.</p><p>Eventually, Vader inclined his head deeply, and something warm and… awed bled into the air. <em>‘I accept your Vow,’</em> he rumbled back, and Luke allowed himself to relax as Vader resumed his care of Luke's stump.</p><p>Vader didn’t immediately start speaking, but with the weight of the Vow he had demanded, Luke hadn’t expected him to. Secrets were easily kept. Divulging them was much harder. But eventually, the soft rumblings of Vader's voice filled the air once more.</p><p>‘It… happened many years ago. Likely before you were even born, little one,’ his mentor began quietly, still examining Luke's stump and occasionally turning it over to get a better look at some of the ports on the back. ‘I… had someone dear to me. Very dear indeed. We could not see eye-to-eye for most of the time that we knew each other, and our relationship had been grudging at best on his part for a long, long while, but I admired him and respected him as my teacher all the same. I… cared about him more than I did myself, and he was Family to me, even if I do not think I ever was to him,’ Vader admitted quietly, and Luke didn’t dare even breathe to loud for fear it would break this moment.</p><p>‘We were often called two halves of a whole,’ he continued, running careful fingers along the ports, checking for any kind of issues, ‘Two halves of a single warrior. And we were strong together. Stronger than perhaps you can imagine. We led armies and fleets alike into battle, and emerged victorious more often than not. For a time, it seemed like nothing could bring us down.’</p><p>Luke swallowed heavily, feeling the storm clouds begin to roil and darken, preparing for a downpour. ‘Then everything changed. There was conflict within our side of the war, between the leaders of the politicians and the leaders of the armies. A coup was attempted by the military leaders after various things came to light, and I— I hardly knew which way was up anymore. The people I had worked and lived with for so long turned on all sides, and I did not know whom to trust anymore. In the end, I chose to trust the political leader, and turned against the military leaders, the people that I had called my own for the longest time. The one dear to me… did not. He remained with the military leaders, and considering a coup was attempted and thwarted, we were to be Enemies form there on out.’</p><p>Luke hardly knew what to say, and thankfully, it seemed Vader wasn’t expecting him to say anything as a packet with an antiseptic swipe tore itself open and the damp swatch of cloth flew into Vader's hand, who began gently wiping at the ports with it.</p><p>‘I wish I could tell you the full story of those days, little one,’ he continued quietly, diligently cleaning every single port with the wipe as he talked, Luke's skin stinging slightly with the alcohol solution the wipe was soaked in, ‘But in truth I barely remember half of it. Much of my memories of the days directly preceding and following those moments are nothing but a haze of dire emotions, confusion, and desperation. By the time I regained even some of my senses, I had already committed some of the greatest mistakes and regrets of my life, unable to recall them in full detail, and I was on Mustafar, a planet of fire, the one I held dear was standing in front of me, cursing me for the choices I had made, and determined to put a halt to it all.’</p><p>Luke's tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth, unable to bring out a single word as he listened to Vader recount his tale. The storm clouds had opened, and the rain had begun pouring down, thick and heavy like it did during the rainy season, but there was oddly none of the relief and joy Luke usually felt at the streams of water coming down from the sky.</p><p>‘We were Enemies by then, though it took me some time to… truly realize it,’ Vader told him, the vocoder rumbling in gentle, burring tones that settled Luke's chest even as the rain of misery and old pain came down. ‘And we fought. Like neither of us ever had before. We fought like Enemies, Enemies who had once been something close to Family, and the fight was all the worse for it. In the end, I… made a grave mistake that allowed him an opening to cause… devastating damage. I lost three of my limbs in that one mistake.’ He made a rumbling sound so much like thunder, and Luke felt the old pain flow through them both like tar. ‘I had lost,’ he stated firmly, ‘And I was left at the mercy of my opponent. He took my weapon while I laid there on the shingle bank of a lava flow.’</p><p>Luke frowned as he parsed through the story. It was horrifying for his mentor, clearly, and it explained how he had ended up in the state he had, but— ‘I don’t see how this misjudges his character,’ he cut in quietly. ‘It’s horrifying, and I wish it had <em>never</em> happened to you, but… you said it was a fight between Enemies, and if you knew that entering it, how—’</p><p>‘Little one,’ Vader interrupted gently, ‘It is not the wounds that I am talking about. They were… less than desirable, and I wish I had not made that mistake, but ultimately, it was a fight between Enemies, and I had lost.’</p><p>Luke's frown deepened even further, and he shifted uncomfortably at the worsening of the misery and pain not his own falling over him in a blanket of drops and shards. ‘Then why—?’</p><p>‘It is not the fact that he won that was the misjudgment, Luke,’ Vader explained patiently, ‘It is the fact that when the lava caused me to catch fire, and the flames ate away at my flesh, he left me there to burn.’</p><p>
  <em>What.</em>
</p><p>‘He <em>what!?’</em> Luke shouted, yanking his stump out of Vader's hand as he shot upwards. He didn’t care. What the <em>fuck</em> had he just heard!?</p><p>Vader merely tilted his head at him and nodded. ‘That was the misjudgment, little one,’ he admitted quietly. ‘Believing that he would have had the decency to grant me the proper ending of an Enemy. The choice was either to kill me, or to arrange medical attention. As we were Enemies by that point, I do not think that the latter was an option he could even conceive of in that moment, but the former? He had two weapons, his and mine. He used neither, and left me there to burn.’</p><p>Luke thought that he might hear sirens going off somewhere, but it could just as easily have been the howling winds that <em>raged</em> through his mind. Vader had been— That man had— <em>Burning—</em></p><p>
  <em>You didn’t let your Enemies live.</em>
</p><p>That was more than just sound advice and a guideline for how to deal people that pissed you off, that was a fucking <em>Law of the Desert</em> and the first lesson She taught you! You didn’t just <em>ignore</em> that! You didn’t just—</p><p>He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths.</p><p>Vader had been left to burn and die by someone who had been his Enemy. From what he knew of his mentor, the perpetrator was likely not a Child, or even a former one. Which meant that they didn’t have a single obligation to follow the rules of the Laws of the Desert, but they were still beholden to the <em>common fucking rules of a live-steel fight.</em></p><p>Taking a deep breath, he braced himself to ask the question. ‘Did he— did he know— was he ever taught what to <em>do</em> when you win a battle with live-steel? Did he even know the <em>rules?’</em> Luke asked, as calmly as he could even as his voice held a tremble of rage. Please say no, please say no, please say no—</p><p>When Vader answered, he was oddly quiet, but Luke didn’t even think on that anymore when the words registered. <em>‘He</em> was the one who had taught them to <em>me,</em> little one.’</p><p>Son of a sun stung <em>bitch! </em></p><p>‘That <em>bastard!’</em> he yelled, not even bothering to control his volume as his blood boiled at the implications. ‘Who the <em>fuck</em> did he think he was!?’</p><p>‘In the right, no doubt,’ Vader answered evenly. ‘The group to which he belonged was always rather keen on sanctimonious rationales. I doubted he even registered it as something wrong.’ Vader sighed deeply as he held out his hand for Luke's stump once more, which Luke reluctantly gave him, still fuming at the information. ‘I do not know what became of him after he left me to die, and I do not think I will ever know, as I never heard from him again. But it was that final misjudgment that cost me everything that had to be replaced and supplemented with the suit you now know.’</p><p>Finishing cleaning Luke's stump with the antiseptic swatch, Vader allowed it to drift out of his hand and into the air, joining the bandages and other discarded things in the tray on his nightstand. Bactapatches began to remove themselves from their packages, the clear film on one side of the transparent patches peeling away to exposed the gel layer of bacta. One of them landed neatly in Vader's outstretched hand, and, with more care than Luke thought it perhaps warranted but appreciated more than he could say, his mentor began to apply the patch to his stump, carefully wrapping it around as much as it could reach and smoothing out the creases with a gentle precision.</p><p>‘So as you see, little one,’ Vader rumbled lowly, a strange pressure holding the patch in place despite there being no adhesive on it to speak of as he grabbed the next patch, ‘You are far from the only one with such an experience. We misjudged someone’s character and ending up paying perhaps too steep a price.’ He smoothed out the bactapatch, but waited on grabbing the last one as he reached out and carefully tilted Luke's chin up, and meeting his eyes with those ever-opaque lenses. ‘So believe me when I say this, Luke. You <em>will</em> persevere, you will learn from this, and when you do, you will be stronger than those who wronged you could have ever imagined.’</p><p>And those words— those words should perhaps not have struck as deep as they did. But Vader— Vader knew. Vader truly <em>knew</em> what he was going through, perhaps better than anyone else could. And he understood.</p><p>With tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, Luke pressed his lips into a thin line a he nodded silently.</p><p>Something that was apparently enough for Vader, as he returned to the last bactapatch, carefully pasting it in the gap left by the previous two, leaving no spot uncovered. The pressure Luke didn’t know the origins of spread out to hold it in place as well, the air thick with the dark of night and his head ringing with a note so deep it could only be felt as Vader let go of the patches. The package holding a new roll of pristine white bandages ripped open, and with a few careful movements, Vader began to wrap it around is stump in a crossing pattern, up, over, under, rinse and repeat.</p><p>The rhythmic movements were soothing, and Luke hummed as he considered everything he had just been told.</p><p>First of all, Vader had gone through Suns’ Fire and the Dune Sea’s fucking <em>sand</em> the day he had been put into that suit.</p><p>Second, whomever had put him into it had been a hypocrite and a fucking coward for declaring enmity and then just— not following through on it.</p><p>Third, Vader considered his ordeal to have been similar enough to share the story in order to offer him a bit of comfort and shared empathy.</p><p>Fourth, they’d both survived those that had done this to them, and one was definitely dead while the other apparently might as well be even if he <em>was</em> still alive.</p><p>And fifth, they were both here now.</p><p>They were both here, and despite it all, they would grow beyond what they were made to be.</p><p>Vader finished tying up the bandages around Luke's stump, and with his arm once more numb and tacky from all the bacta, Luke's arm was let go and gently rested on the bed. ‘There,’ Vader murmured quietly. ‘That should hold until the next morning, but we will have to change your bandages once more to ensure the ports integrate fully into your body. So far there is no sign of swelling or infection, and your body had not rejected them either. It is a good sign that you will be able to be fitted with a prosthesis sometime next week.’</p><p>Next week… that reminded him.</p><p>‘In that case, did you ever get to resolving the radius port?’ he asked as he rested his stump over his chest, once more wrapped in thick layers of pristine white bandages. ‘I seem to recall something about you saying you were going to attempt fixing it, but if you spent all that time putting Ozzel into the morgue, then…’ he trailed off meaningfully, a spark of mischief blooming inside him.</p><p>‘Please, little one,’ Vader scoffed, ‘I do not need hours to dispose of one spineless traitor, nor did I need that time to dispose of fourteen of them. I have been working on the issue while handling my duties as well for some time now.’</p><p>‘Yeah, but did you <em>fix</em> it?’ Luke repeated with a raised eyebrow, emphasizing the question after the non-answer Vader had given him.</p><p>Something to which the man fell silent for a bit before a small spark of frustration blipped through the air. ‘No,’ he said, consternation thick within his voice as he looked away and Luke had to bite his lip not to laugh.</p><p>‘Well then,’ he said, trying his hardest to keep his laughter out of his voice and evidently failing miserably if the glare he could feel Vader shooting him from underneath his mask was anything to go off of, ‘Want to try designing it with me again?’</p><p>And like a light switch being flipped, the air burst to life with joy and warmth once the words registered with Vader, bathing Luke in a contentment that had him smiling at the man without a care in the world, even as he lay in a medical bed. ‘It would be my pleasure, little star,’ Vader told him, warmth in every syllable of his monotonous voice.</p><p>Luke watched as Vader picked up the datapad again, momentarily forgetting all the troubles that were still looming over him and them. There was a lot he apparently still needed to learn about how the way the culture here aboard the Lady and in the core worked. And he would need to learn it fast if the common response to him not immediately clocking someone as a danger from the nuances in the conversation was going to cost him a limb every time it happened.</p><p>But for now…</p><p>He smiled at Vader, watching as the man pulled up the file on what would soon enough be a part of Luke himself, and felt the secret the man had entrusted him settle within his heart like something precious beyond words.</p><p>His Enemies had died at the hands of his Home, and Luke would burn a japor snippet of each their names when the time came, if he could get his hands on it. He no longer had to fear their presence aboard the ship he called home, and even if he did, he didn’t doubt for a moment that Vader would be there for him.</p><p>There was work to be done, obviously. Vader was chainblind and there were apparently more dangers lurking here than he could have ever anticipated, but that would be for later.</p><p>For now, he turned his attention towards the schematic in front of him, a million ideas racing through his head, faster and faster as the last remains of anesthetic cleared out of his system. ‘Alright,’ he said as he looked at the radius and ulna ports that were apparently still causing trouble, mischief still in his every word. ‘Have you forgotten about the 3D printers again this time?’</p><p>That comment earned him a tap on the head from Vader and Luke couldn’t help it as he burst into snickers, the fingers barely even mussing his hair. <em>‘I did not,</em> thank you so very kindly, little one,’ Vader groused towards him, even as the air felt light and warm all around. ‘The wiring simply will not cooperate.’</p><p>Rolling his eyes as he prepared to dive back into <em>that</em> particular argument, Luke couldn’t help the beaming grin that stretched across his face as he prepared to drag Vader through the damn dirt on this one.</p><p>For now, he could have this.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
  <li>
<a id="note18" name="note18"></a>[18] <em>Kinri’sa Ta:</em> A holiday celebrated by the Children whenever a stellar eclipse occurs. It celebrates community, survival, and the ending of grudges or vendettas as, from the perspective of the planetary surface, the twin suns briefly eclipse one another as if in a reunion.

<p>Since Tatooine is a planet of scarcity and death is an everyday presence, blood grudges and vendettas are fought in a brutal and swift fashion. This results in a declaration of hostile intent nearly always ending in the death of one party or the other mere weeks or even <em>days</em> after it was declared. Expenditure of as little resources and energy as possible while reaching a permanent resolution is the name of the game when engaged in a Tatooine vendetta, and as any Child will tell you, once declared, enmity between two parties is fought to the bitter end. Hence the famous saying under the Children of the Desert: You don’t let your Enemies live.</p>

<p>However, due to the very fact that resources are scarce and avoiding needless conflict if at all possible is preferable to potentially risking one’s life, when given the chance, on one or two select days of the year all obsolete and mellowed out—but still lingering hostilities—are put aside in favor of celebrating life and moving on with it. When the two Suns eclipse one another and even their deities of strife, destruction, vendettas, and chaos reunite in a forgiving embrace, the local community comes together under a flag of truce to celebrate the reunion of the Suns Kin and Ri, and in doing so, their reunion with each other.</p>

<p>With as much food and drink as can be brought to the table to mellow out tempers and egos, and with music and dance around the sacred bonfires, grudges are forgotten, and vendettas forgiven. Each gripe and misdeed that one wishes to let go is carved into scraps of japor wood to be ritualistically thrown into the bonfires, the things inscribed in them burning away alongside the wood as the people sing and dance to the music deep into the night.</p>

<p>However, as with all things concerning the Children, there is a duality to Kinri’sa Ta, and as much as it is a festival of forgiveness, it is a festival of victory as well. The resolution of a conflict and moving on with one’s life is the domain of Kinri’sa Ta regardless of how it occurs, and while there is a general emphasis on the resolution of conflicts through diplomacy, there is a definitive and inseparable presence of celebration for the resolutions of conflict through the victory of one party or another. In that case, one burns a japor snippet with the name of one’s Enemy carved in it, and through burning it, one releases the grip the soul of their departed Enemy may have still had on their mind and heart, allowing one to move on with life and away from the conflict. A drink to the memory of a worthy opponent may occur, but is far from necessary.</p>

<p>Forgiveness and Victory. These are the aspects of Kinri’sa Ta, and while the latter half is often diminished, ignored, or entirely erased by outsiders, the fact remains that the festival of the stellar eclipse is one of as much duality as the Suns it honors. <sup><a href="#back18">[ ▲ ]</a></sup></p>
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</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So here we are. A little bit of subtle rebellion encased in fragile trust, a hint to the state of reality here within the Guides, and a Father and Son to-be, growing ever closer. I hope that I'll see you all again next Sunday for the next chapter, until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Electrify You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A prosthesis is assembled, a gift for a star, and the final stage of healing begins.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're finally, <i>finally</i> here! Luke gets his arm, and with that, we've solidly entered the final stage of this whole circus of horrors: His gradual return to the Lady's daily life. With everyone now thoroughly on the same page when it comes to their stance on "Oh gods, keep him alive and happy at all costs" it might just prove to be a more interesting return than anticipated...</p><p>But first, the prosthetic arm. As always, I hope you all enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Watching the engraving machine carve the last of the design into the back of the prosthetic hand, Darth Vader impatiently tapped a finger against the casing of the machine.</p><p>The Suns, the Moons, the Storm, all were already engraved on the hand. The only thing that was left was the Star Paths, intricate and swirling and ancient, a Path run by the First Runner, guiding a thousand of their Siblings to Freedom under the watchful eyes of the Moons, the Storm sending the winds to carry them up into the heavens, where they now rested as constellations amongst the very stars that had aided their escape.</p><p>It had been his favorite tale as a child and Child, his Mother telling it to him in hushed whispers whenever the nights had been clear enough for them to sneak out of their hovel and look towards the sky. The Ones Who Had Escaped. How he’d wished and prayed and hoped to be one of them one day. More so than even a Jedi, he had hoped to be <em>Free</em><em>.</em></p><p>Sometimes he wished he could have taken his adolescent self by the shoulders and shaken some sense into him. Freedom for him would be nothing like the stories, and that the pain would come for him no matter what. Nothing would stop the pain, not even Freedom. And he had likely never deserved to live without it in the first place.</p><p>Well, one thing stopped the pain. Something he had thought lost to him for such a long time.</p><p>Now, he dared hope again that the child for which the prosthesis was meant would find it in his heart to— to—</p><p>Would thinking it doom it to never be so? It was a superstitious thought that made a spark of irritation at himself prick sharply underneath his skin. At this point, however, he knew better than to doubt that it wasn’t possible. He’d lost too much, done too much, to now know that a single, insignificant thing could ruin one’s life beyond compare.</p><p>Or save it.</p><p>He had never expected all those months ago, that clicking on a video link would lead to this.</p><p>The engraving machine ground to a halt as the last slivers of metal disappeared along with the water jet, and Vader resolutely put the thought out of mind. He had work to do now that they had finalized the design.</p><p>Four days, and Luke's bandages and bacta were about ready to come off, which meant that he would be ready to be fitted with a prosthesis and finally begin the process of reclaiming his place aboard the Lady. For that, though, he would need a fully-functional prosthesis, and since the design had been finalized only yesterday, it had meant working through the night for Vader, with only his necessary hours of meditation breaking his rhythm.</p><p>Between that and some liberal use of the Dark, he had configured the internal mechanisms (and the wiring) done to Luke's specifications. The child had been incredibly smug when he had been forced to concede partial defeat. Much of the outer casing was also complete. Each part had to be cut and polished down to the micrometer in order to render a prosthesis for the little one that wouldn’t require cumbersome gloves and casings in order to keep the dust out of the machinery. The other casing would be a work of art, yes, but also state-of-the-art in how it would behave, while the core machinery moved as closely to a flesh and blood hand as he could get it.</p><p>Even though it would look like anything but flesh and blood.</p><p><a id="back19" name="back19"></a>The enamel powder for the coating had already been mixed in the machine that would apply it, both the highlight color of Desert Sand for the grooves and the base color of Porcelain White for most of the paneling. With the right procedures, the substance would harden to the point that he doubted even his lightsaber would be able to scratch it, and with a generous amount of phirril powder <a href="#note19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> added to the enamel, as well as forming the basis of much of the metal used in the prosthesis for components and plating, he didn’t doubt that it would weather a great many things.</p><p>If Luke's track record was anything to go off of, it would need to, especially if he would be using the utility capabilities built into the arm. Which, as an Engineer, he didn’t doubt the child would.</p><p>Taking the final, finished plate over to the workbench in the newly restored and repaired workshop, Vader set to work gathering the other plates with a sweep of the Dark. Picking up every last still-bare piece of metal casing, he walked over towards the enameling machine, a trail of pieces floating behind him in a procession of mechanical expertise.</p><p>Walking through the workshop, Vader couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly the Engineering Corps had pulled together in order to restore the workspace of their Commanding Officer to working order. Engineer Lyvon had given report that work had finished for the time being, and that once Luke was declared fit for duty, it would be ready for him, with new add-ons and gadgets to boot. All checked personally for signs of foul play, of course. The workshop would require yet more work to be fully restored to its original splendor, but between the manpower available and the orders Lyvon had placed for some additional specialized equipment that the workshop had been lacking so far, the Engineering Corps was confident that they would be able to raise the bar even higher once they’d truly completed work on the space.</p><p>Vader hadn’t quite known what to say aside from praising the Engineer and his Corps for a job well and swiftly done, the actions taken by the other Engineers speaking of a level of respect and genuine care for the little star that felt like looking into a mirror.</p><p>Lyvon had told him with a small smile that it had been a unanimous decision to bump up the workshop in the priority list of what would be worked on. Even though it would be another week or two to before Luke would be able to rejoin his Corps, he would at least know that he was wanted back as swiftly as possible, even setting aside the other preparations underway for an event to convey that message.</p><p>A sentiment so familiar that for a moment he had heard an echo of himself.</p><p>Reaching the enameling machine and flicking through the component files he had already uploaded into the machine’s CPU, he selected the file for the palm and wrist panels. There wasn’t much engraving at all on those panels, and they would be less visible than the other plates, so for a test run of the colors and enameling-process they were ideal.</p><p>Popping open the cover and directing the plates to float inside, he began selecting the coloring processes necessary for the phirril-laced enamel. Enamel it may be, but the chemical properties of the minerals added for color could get rather unpredictable with the addition of such a rare metal into the mix. He had done the calculations and experiments necessary, but the results still had a margin of error that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with when it came to something that would adorn the little star in such a momentous way.</p><p>Selecting the final process and clicking the cover shut with a snap of the Dark, he sent a jolt through the machine to begin the enameling process on the plates.</p><p>With the slow hums and groans of an awakening beast, the machine creaked to life, and with precise, laser focus, it began the task of coating the entire plate in a thick layer of the powdered minerals and metals that would make the glass-like covering for the plating, hard as diamond. The machine moved slowly, and while it was a tedious task, Vader never let his eyes stray from the enameling machine. If all went well, he would believe that the machine would be able to handle this particular setup of materials well enough to be left alone while he continued work on the arm. The interior machinery may be largely finished, but more fine-tuning could always be done, especially when it came down to something as delicate as simulated nerve endings.</p><p>The last time he had checked, the data the Medics had provided him with on Luke's personal physiology and his neural mapping would hopefully be enough to get as close as possible to a proper nerve input as the child would have been used to. However, even with extensive data and both him and Luke working to improve the prosthesis to the highest point of perfection achievable with the current scientific limits, there were still discrepancies between the output of the neural ports and the output of Luke's actual output. Rather major discrepancies, in fact, before he had fine-tuned the hand.</p><p>It had been odd to say the least. The neural output they had been set to had been well within the range of an average human, and yet it hadn’t been nearly enough. The Medics had been unsure as to what to do when confronted with the issue, suggesting that there was some sort of error at play or that Luke’s body was actually rejecting the neural ports despite there being no evidence of such.</p><p>He had promptly shut such inquiries down for the useless prattle it was and begun adjusting the limb in accordance to Luke's needed output. Theories and such were all well and good, but they shouldn’t get in the way of actually searching for a <em>solution</em> to the issue presented. Luke wouldn’t have been able to properly operate his hand despite everything being linked up as it should with the current outputs.</p><p>Or rather, he would have been able to operate his hand with the precision, speed, and power of an average human. Which functionally meant that Luke wouldn’t have been able to use it <em>at all</em> due to the sheer dissonance, not even considering that his profession required steady hands for some of the finer detail work of engineering.</p><p>Thankfully, it had been, while not an easy remedy, still a very doable one, which required he recalibrate and even rewire some of the components in the hand for extra fine motor control. All this meant that even if Luke's prosthesis were to match another amputee’s measurements by some miracle, they still wouldn’t be able to use the hypersensitive prosthesis. It would be, in all ways, a limb as unique to Luke as his remaining organic ones were.</p><p>He just hoped that the coloring designed for all this would work as well as the simulated nerves now did.</p><p>Watching anxiously as the machine deposited the last of the powder and began to heat up, he prayed to the Force and the Dark that he had done this right. That he would be able to deliver this project to Luke with no delays or mistakes.</p><p>Through the hardened plastisteel viewing port, he could see how the heating elements within the machine began to heat up to immense temperatures, metal and powder alike turning red-hot with the heat, then, a bright white. The lenses in his mask prevented the light from blinding him, but he had no doubt that if a person were to walk in at his moment without the proper safety gear on, the light would sting their eyes and perhaps even cause damage.</p><p>Moments went by as the timer steadily counted down, beeping cheerfully when the enameling process finally finished, the heating elements within the machine promptly shutting of as the heatsinks kicked into gear with a loud, whirring drone. When that too was finally finished, the cover unlocked with a click, and the contents inside were made available for proper viewing and, more importantly, handling.</p><p>Lifting the curved, still-cooling pieces of plating, Vader could only think that the lingering heat was most appropriate for what these pieces would eventually become. Perhaps not a real hand, but something very close to it nonetheless. He hoped it would be enough for Luke.</p><p>Carefully holding up the freshly enameled piece to the lights of the workshop, Vader felt a thrill run through him once he realized that, while the exact hue was impossible to determine for him thanks to the red haze the lenses in his mask cast over everything, the colors were even, crisp, and the lines of the engraving were suitably darkened and sharp. No spots, no chips, no places where the enamel had slipped away and left bare alloy behind.</p><p>It was, on a technical level, a picture-perfect example of proper and successful enameling.</p><p>Heaving a sigh of relief, he directed the next piece of paneling into the machine, alongside a quick selection of the next set of files. The test had proceeded without a hitch, and process of enameling every piece of paneling necessary for the limb they had designed could now begin.</p><p>Which meant that he would be able to spend the time in between switching out pieces working on refining the last few systems of Luke's hand, something which he promptly proceeded to do once he had fed the next panel to the enameling machine.</p><p>Turning his attention once more to the skeletal construct that was Luke's prosthesis, resting on the workbench. Grabbing tools scattered around the workshop with the Dark as he went, Vader trailed towards the workbench while surrounded by a whole host of little satellites. Turning his attention fully towards the machinery, he hardly noticed it whenever a piece had finished firing and cooling down with a cheerful little chime, directing the finished pieces to swap out with the unfinished ones floating within his cloud of satellites whenever the Dark prodded at him.</p><p>Hydrospanner and screwdriver. Solder and wiring. A minute adjustment here and there as facilitated by the Dark, a component reshaped mere micrometers thanks to a careful pulse of Dark and fire. Work as fine as filigree and poorly suited to the brute hands of his own prostheses, but it had to be done if the little star was to get the best experience he could possibly deliver.</p><p>Turanium, phirril, and a dozen other rare and difficult to work with metals were present within the arm. Either for their durability, their special properties, or simply because nothing less would do, Luke's arm would be a true marvel of engineering, a showcase of a dozen different materials’ properties at their best. And, from when he had been unable to ignore his own instincts and the urgings of the Dark, with the single best mineral for processing speed within the prosthesis’ systems. Microscopic shards of kyber crystal that had been utilized as the data processors, acting as the best conductors for data and electricity that any Engineer could ask for. He hadn’t known what had possessed him to make the change in the design once the discrepancy between Luke's natural nervous system and the artificial one in the arm had come to light, but the Force had been absolutely insistent, and he couldn’t say that he disagreed.</p><p>The fact that Luke's arm now shone out to him like a beacon that he didn’t doubt he would be able to find in even the foggiest of nights certainly didn’t have anything to do with his soothed state of mind. Certainly not.</p><p>When he was, at last, satisfied with the sensitivity of the hand and the neural output had been balanced with the input, Vader brought the finished pieces of enameled plating towards him while directing the last one into the machine. Assembling the pieces in front of him into a loose, but accurate formation of how the casing would fit together, he saw the arm begin to take shape before his eyes.</p><p>Slightly shifting the pieces here and there so that the attachment points of the plating aligned with those of the internal structure, Vader admired his handiwork. It would take one last plate for the arm to be completed, and while he wished he could speed up the process by simply beginning with attaching the plating, the fact of the matter was that he couldn’t.</p><p>Every plate would slot into place with the latter in an intricate puzzle that ended with a hermetically closed casing for the prosthesis, tough enough to stand up to blast and blaster if necessary. A hand fit for an Engineer and runner, capable of withstanding even the sands and storms of the Desert if need be.</p><p>The enameling machine beeped sharply, and the loud whirring sound indicated the start of cooling cycle of the enamel. Nearly jittery with how close the finish of the project loomed, Vader nonetheless waited, standing utterly still and holding the plating in place. Seconds passed agonizingly slow, and once the machine’s rattling and roaring subsided and the cover clicked open, it was all that he could do to not simply yank it off in his haste to get the last piece of plating.</p><p>Like a white and silver arrow, the plating component shot through the air and joined its siblings in the formation floating around the skeletal interior of the arm. Curves and angles, the plating, even in the loose formation it was currently floating in, looked incredibly organic in shape already. If it weren’t for the porcelain white coloring and the darker coloring of the desert sand running through the grooves of the engraving, people might have even been fooled by it at first glance.</p><p>As it stood, it would be a unique, eye-catching statement all its own.</p><p>Preparing to finally finish the hand, Vader reached into the Dark and the fire that hid within it. Burning, smoldering, it was painful on the best of days to touch it and agonizing on the worst. However, in select cases, it had its uses as well.</p><p>Like, for instance, when the plating components would all need to be affixed simultaneously to achieve the absolute best fit and one wouldn’t ordinarily be able to reach into the arm to solder and fuse them in place. With the fire resting in the Dark, however, the task would be trivial.</p><p>With a flick of the Dark and a carefully guiding hand, the plating began to float into place, the edges that were honed to perfection clicked together like puzzle pieces, the underlayers of brass-colored plating slotting together without so much as a seam to show for it in some places. The Dark curled around the seams, now invisible to the naked eye, through it, and into the arm where the underside of the plating finally rested on the connector points. Humming of fire, heat, and burning, the metals fused with one another under the laser-targeted heat, binding the plating to the arm.</p><p>Then the over plating, enameled and pristine, was fitted over it, seams and grooves alike highlighted for beauty if not function. A careful repeat, some prodding with the Force and the Dark to connect the neural sensors with the artificial nerves, the plating with the moving parts of the arm, a minute or two to fully cool down, and the hand was complete.</p><p>Organic lines in artificial material, that had been the goal.</p><p>As he rested the arm down onto the workbench, finally fully finished and ready to be used by the little star, he couldn’t help but think that his efforts had resulted in a resounding success.</p><p>Gentle curves formed the unmistakable shape of an arm, as real as any flesh. Pristine white and a darker, what he knew to be sandy color that curled and twisted all over the hand in intricate and delicate lines that spoke of the history its future owner held within his Heart. Objectively speaking, the prosthesis was a thing of beauty, and one that would hopefully be worthy of the little star.</p><p>Carefully letting the Dark pick it up, Vader directed the hand to float in front of him as he headed over to the various protective cases shelved in one of the corners of the room. Shaped to safely contain everything from the size of a single computer chip to the whole computer itself, the protective cases were essential for the task of transporting prototypes and the like. Or in this case; a prosthesis.</p><p>Selecting one of the longer cases, he clicked the case open and began compressing the memory foam inside to a more suitable shape for the arm. The Dark made quick work of the foam, and with a wave of his hand, the prosthesis floated inside and the case clicked shut. Extending his grasp with the Dark, he released the arm in favor of taking hold of the protective case, lifting it up into the air and directing it to trail after him as he walked.</p><p>Checking the chrono in the workshop, he realized that he had finished just in time. A little less than an hour from now was the time for Luke's appointment in which, hopefully, he would be deemed fully healed and ready to start acclimating to a prosthesis.</p><p>Setting a brisk pace as he swept past the workbench, he sent out a wave of the Dark through all the systems present, directing the workshop back into sleep modus as he ordered the repaired and replaced blast doors to open and allow him through. An order that was promptly obeyed, as with a chirp of the lock and a hiss of hydraulics the double doors slid open.</p><p>Stalking through them in long strides, Vader began the journey back to the medical wing.</p><p>Down the hallway and through the main hangar, he ignored all the curious stares as he walked by with a black case floating behind him without any visible to hold it up. Curious, and fearful. Ever since he had executed Ozzel four days ago in a manner befitting the utter waste of space, fear had skyrocketed in the people around him wherever he treaded near with only a few, tentative exceptions.</p><p>The Troopers, who had seen worse things on the battlefield than him melting a dead man walking into a shape more akin to what lay inside. The Medics, or at least a part of them, who were the ones to deal with any corpses left in his wake. And, for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom out, the latest Admiral of the Lady, Piett.</p><p>And Luke.</p><p>Always Luke.</p><p>Even when he had told the child what had become of the traitor he hadn’t flinched or feared for a moment. A behavior that he would ordinarily consider foolish in anyone else, but that only reflected in bravery on Luke.</p><p>They had been in agreement on his actions; you didn’t let an Enemy live.</p><p>It was a comforting thought as he strode through the miasma of fear and terror that his very presence evoked in the people around him, the Dark hissing and swelling with satisfaction at the veritable feast. Strength poured into his veins, and he used the extra power to hasten his pace just a little past what was strictly normal.</p><p>The Dark cushioned his footfalls and smoothened his stride even as normally his bones would be jarring against his protheses. Not now though, and with smooth, swift strides he walked into the elevator, bypassing the Troopers stationed there with a quick nod of acknowledgement as he selected his destination, weaving the Dark into the very systems of the Lady and inputting the binary as necessary.</p><p>An elevator quickly came up to meet him, and striding in he reached out to close the doors with a thread of the Dark, as natural as breathing. Frivolous, others might have said in his past, frivolous use that was not what the Force was meant for. He couldn’t understand how that could be said when it was like restricting yourself to only the use of your right hand when your left was simply right there.</p><p>He remembered the first time he had set foot aboard the Lady, half-finished as she was, and how it had been as natural as breathing to extend himself throughout the Force and weave into her very being, slipping between the atoms and twisting through the electric blips of binary. Natural, even if others might have had strenuous objections to the use of that word in regard to machinery.</p><p>Now he knew how to turn the Lady to his hand with a mere twist of a thread of reality and a little leeway in the “laws” of physics. It had proven advantageous more than once.</p><p>The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open, allowing him to stride into the lobby and hallways beyond. He would need to walk some distance yet to the medical wing, but with the Dark to hasten his steps and with a little star to guide the way, the ground between them melted away with each haste filled step.</p><p>Down the A-1, through the various hallways, and into the medical wing’s lobby took nary any time at all from his perspective, and he was unsure if that was simply because he had been so focused on the gleaming little beacon of iridescence ahead of him or whether he had subconsciously used the Dark to hasten his travels. He hardly cared to know either, as checking the chrono in the lobby told him that while he had made it here in good time, Luke was likely waiting for him.</p><p>Sweeping into and through the lobby without bothering to check in with the receptionist beyond exchanging two looks that told him the utterly apathetic man would note his arrival for the records’ sake and nothing else, Vader made his way towards the recovery ward.</p><p>He encountered various medical personnel on his way there, and while there was a puzzling lack of fear there, what was even more perplexing to him was the quiet, knowing smiles they would sometimes get when their gaze met his. It was thoroughly odd, and for all that he didn’t know what to make of it, he wasn’t inclined to ask any questions either. He was even less inclined when a familiar door dawned upon him that marked the end of his journey and the beginning of, hopefully, something new for the little star that was shining just beyond that door.</p><p>Opening the door, he quietly stepped through into the room beyond, down the little hallway and towards the chatter of voices ahead. The deeper cadence of what were unmistakably the clones assigned to keep Luke safe in the eventuality that the conspiracy had any remains aboard who would be foolhardy enough to tangle with him and Luke again and the lighter, more musical cadence of the little star himself.</p><p>Stepping around the corner, he found himself right in the middle of a heated debate as Luke excitedly gestured towards Boomer while holding up his comm, chattering about the—</p><p>Oh Force.</p><p>He halted in the doorway, but it was too late to retreat as Luke's eyes snapped over to him and the Force instantly flared to life with the little one’s consternation. ‘You!’ Luke yelled at him, jabbing a finger in his direction. ‘Ohhh, I have a bone to pick with <em>you!’</em></p><p>Swallowing in a manner that was definitely not marked by nervousness, he stepped forward into the room, settling down the protective case on one of the unused beds as the clones scattered out of the way to give him his space at Luke's bedside. ‘Is that so, Luke?’ he asked, trying to keep his tone light. ‘In what manner are we speaking?’</p><p>‘Like you don’t know!’ Luke shot back, grabbing his datapad before Vader could get a word in edgewise and projecting the familiar formatting of security camera footage through the holoprojector. Before he could even begin to protest against what he had a strong suspicion was going to be played, Luke had hit the play button and the footage started rolling.</p><p>The grand gates of the main hangar flickered into view, ordinary and innocuous, and Vader preemptively stifled a wince as he realized what was about to happen. The gates stayed as they were for a while longer, traffic and people milling about at their base.</p><p>Then the shadows started to lengthen everywhere and writhing in a manner signature to the Dark. Longer and wilder, longer and wilder, until—</p><p>The gates shook like they were hit with a bomb, tearing and shattering like paper and ceramic. Static shot across the security footage as the camera was obviously shaken through the Storm and back, footage corrupting and distorting in strokes even as the device clearly attempted to continue recording what was going on as the gates were torn asunder and clouds of dust and powdered metal kicked up into the air.</p><p>Luke's hand flashed out towards the play button, and the footage froze picture perfect on a black blur tearing through the screen, too fast for the camera to track. Vader was no longer looking at the security footage, however. No, he had found himself being stared down by Luke, the Force hissing with the irritation and frustration flowing off of the little one in waves. He didn’t dare say a word as bright eyes effortlessly bypassed the lenses and stared directly into his own, blazing and determined.</p><p>‘That,’ Luke said flatly, ‘Was footage from a week ago.’ The Force flared in annoyance and prodded sharply at him as if in response to it.</p><p>‘Quite obviously so,’ he agreed, hopefully keeping his tone neural enough to not betray his own nervousness. He wasn’t quite sure why the little star was inspiring such feelings, but he knew that he had the oddest sense of déjà vu as he looked down at a bubbling source of irritation and frustration, ready to blow.</p><p>It was a sense he wasn’t too keen to explore.</p><p>‘And do you know what I got in response when I just messaged Erribas over it a moment ago?’ Luke hissed towards him, eyes blazing.</p><p>‘No, though I presume that you will tell me,’ he ventured carefully.</p><p>‘He told me,’ Luke hissed, voice nearly a whisper, ‘That they were waiting on fixing the damage until <em>I was back on active duty.’</em> Vader nearly caved to a wince as he suddenly realized why all the repairs had been proceeding as rapidly as they had. Oh, that wasn’t good. ‘And they’re gonna let <em>me</em> deal with ordering all the specialized components since apparently they have faith that I’ll be able to cut through some of the red tape.’</p><p>Sparks of incredulity and awe were budding all around them, and he abruptly realized that outside of his and Luke's little bubble, the clones were looking in on what was unfolding. Unfortunately, that revelation wasn't enough to pull him away from the blazing eyes that were boring straight into his own. ‘You are… displeased with this situation,’ he noted carefully, and when the Force abruptly swept over him in a tide of ire, he knew it had been the wrong thing to say.</p><p><em>‘Displeased?’</em> Luke growled. ‘Yes, you could say that. <em>You could really fucking say that.’</em> He tossed the datapad further away in a fit of pique. ‘Did you even think about what would happen if you just did that!?’ he nearly yelled.</p><p>That, at least, was a question he could answer honestly. ‘I did,’ he offered. ‘I thought it was a more than acceptable sacrifice if it meant getting faster to you.’</p><p>That seemed to strike something within the little star, as the ire in the Force faltered in favor of something vulnerable and fragile, bright eyes losing their burning fire for a moment as they widened in surprise. The whole room felt as if it were standing on a precipice, and Vader distantly registered that even the clones had frozen in place. Then those bright eyes abruptly closed as Luke hung his head for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath.</p><p>‘Fine,’ he said at last as he glanced back up over his fingers to glare at Vader, the bubbling irritation cooling down to a simmer as he looked him in the eyes. ‘Thank you for that,’ he said, sincerely and only slightly begrudgingly, ‘That… means a lot. But I want to make one thing clear.’</p><p>Relieved that Luke was apparently no longer gearing up towards a boiling point, he dipped his head in preemptive agreement, hoping to forestall any further escalation. ‘Yes, Luke?’</p><p>Luke dropped his hand from his face entirely in favor of jabbing a finger at him. <em>‘You</em> are going to be the one to order those parts, not me. If I have to repair those damn things, I want the parts to already be there by the time I start, got it?’</p><p>‘I do not believe that is quite how this works, little one—’ he attempted to protest, mindful of the fact that the clones were most definitely still present, but Luke narrowed his eyes into a truly frigid glare.</p><p>‘You. Broke. It,’ he said, accentuating each word with a pointed jab towards Vader with his finger. ‘Which means that <em>you</em> supply the parts so it can get fixed. I’ll repair the damn things, but these aren’t your TIE Advanced, I can’t just <em>modify</em> other parts for them. You want this fixed? You order the sun stung parts, and get them delivered or that hole stays<em> right where it is.’</em></p><p>And he wanted to argue with that statement, as the Supreme Commander of the Lady and the Armed Forces, ordering parts for the repair of a ship most definitely did <em>not</em> fall under his duties, but—</p><p>But Luke was already teetering on the edge of ire again, and for whatever reason, he would be loathed, absolutely <em>loathed</em> to be reason he tipped over into anger. And if ordering the parts for the Lady’s grand gates made was what spared Luke that then—</p><p>‘Very well, Luke,’ he conceded, ignoring the abrupt spots shock and bafflement that bloomed in the Force just a couple of paces to his left. ‘So be it.’</p><p>Luke gave him a flat look as he registered the words. ‘You are most gracious,’ he retorted in a voice sarcastic enough to burn. Shaking his head, he sighed. ‘Really though, the <em>whole</em> gates?’ he muttered, and Vader flushed slightly as he remembered that he truly hadn’t been thinking at his clearest when he had done that.</p><p>‘You were injured and unconscious,’ he retorted instead, ‘I was not about to wait for them to open on their own.’</p><p>Luke glanced up to him before directing his eyes back at the security footage still displayed over the holoprojector. ‘I appreciate the sentiment behind it, I guess,’ he said at last, voice quiet and soft, the ire in the Force soothing over into something gentle in its entirety. ‘But please, no more wrecking of one-of-a-kind equipment. Not when I am the one who’s going to have to repair it.’</p><p>‘I make no promises,’ he replied evenly. ‘If the situation were to repeat itself, I would make the same choice regardless of the damage it would cause.’ He would too. Regardless of how many times he were made to order the parts for the grand gates by his little star. If Luke were still there to make him do it, it would be worth all that and so, so much more.</p><p>Luke shot him a look that was half exasperation and half incredible fondness before flopping back against his pillow. ‘I suppose that’s the best I could ask for,’ he muttered as he glared at the datapad still situated at the foot of his bed.</p><p>‘Indeed it is,’ he agreed easily. ‘Now then, was that all?’ he asked pointedly, causing Luke to shoot him an unamused look back.</p><p>‘Unless you blew anything else up that Boomer has yet to tell me, no,’ Luke shot back, before a sudden dread sunk in through the Force. ‘Wait, you didn’t blow anything else up, did you?’ he asked, a frantic edge to his voice. ‘I swear, if another TIE AD-X1 bit the dust while I wasn’t looking, I’m gonna—’</p><p>‘Remain in bed until such a time when the Medics clear you,’ he finished sternly. ‘And as for “blowing something up,”’ he said as he cast a glance over at the clones who had so far remained silent and were, nearly all with various expressions of shock, carefully constructed blandness, and slowly dawning glee, the Force around them chattering with realization. That… might become a problem. ‘I am unaware of any actions taken on my part that could point towards that kind of report, but the <em>vod’e</em> have apparently been rather diligent in requesting security footage they certainly do <em>not</em> have the security clearance for,’ he said pointedly, shooting a glare from out of the corner of his eye towards the loosely cluster group of men.</p><p>A glare which clearly did nothing to translate for Boomer as the man cheerfully beamed at him. ‘Nah, we just requested this particular bit of security footage, my Lord,’ he told Vader cheerfully. ‘Well, we, and the rest of the whole Lady,’ he admitted flippantly.</p><p>Somehow, that didn’t surprise him.</p><p>‘Go easy on them,’ Luke chided quietly, a soft laugh playing around the corners of his mouth now that he was no longer cross with Vader, ‘They were just sharing the major beats of last week with me, and with what you did, there was no way you were going to be thrown out of the highlight reel.’</p><p>And normally, he would at the very least reprimand Boomer for his behavior, but this time… he might just let it slide. Just this once. Turning away from the Sergeant, he ignored the surprise and, below that, careful consideration growing within the Force. He hardly cared for how this would affect his reputation, and he didn’t think anyone would forget any time soon about what happened to those who thought he could neither protect or avenge those under his wings.</p><p>Besides, it hardly compared to the quiet joy that flitted through the Force like Nubian hummingbirds when he looked back towards Luke, the little star looking on in clear approval. He didn’t doubt that many would say he was being blatantly influenced by the little one, and to them he would say that it was, quite obviously, for all to see as the truth. He hardly minded though.</p><p>A thump sounded through the room and someone cleared their throat not long after. Looking over, he was hardly surprise to find Boomer rubbing the back of his head while shooting an affronted look at Commander Cody, who had just stepped forward.</p><p>‘Pardon me, my Lord,’ he said, perfectly respectful and simultaneously incredibly judgmental, ‘But was there a reason for your visit?’ With that, he shot a pointed look towards the case still situated on the bed. ‘If I may be honest, my Lord, I truly hope that that isn’t an explosive,’ he quipped drily, and Luke squawked out an indignant sound as he chucked one of his pillows towards the Commander.</p><p>‘Too soon!’ he scolded with a grin that was closer to a display of bared teeth than mirth, executing a perfect one-handed toss. ‘Find another joke!’</p><p>The pillow sailed through the air and hit the clone with surprising force, knocking the man off balance and right into Appo who himself bumped into Hex. All three clones went stumbling, and while any one of the men would have easily regained their footing, three pairs of flailing arms and stumbling legs was a recipe for disaster that ended with all three <em>vod</em> sprawled over the floor, and Luke beaming very smugly as they scrambled to right themselves.</p><p>‘Was that really necessary, sir?’ Cody groaned as he worked himself back to his feet.</p><p>‘Yes,’ Luke sniffed unsympathetically, ‘It served you right.’ Then he turned to Vader, and he could see the curiosity spring to life like plants after the rain. ‘He did have a good question though,’ Luke admitted as he looked towards Vader with open curiosity. ‘Why are you here?’</p><p>‘I do hope you did not forget your appointment, little one,’ he answered amusedly. ‘If you are declared fully healed, it will be time to fit you with your first prosthesis and begin the process of integration and acclimatization.’</p><p>Luke's eyes widened to approximately the size of saucers as they flicked between him and the case on the bed. ‘You— you finished it?’ he whispered. ‘You really—’ he cut off, seemingly unable to bring himself to say it aloud, and Vader could sympathize with that all too well.</p><p>‘Yes,’ he confirmed quietly. ‘I did. Within that case is your own prosthesis, little one, finetuned and finished. I do believe you will find it a very good fit for you indeed.’</p><p>Luke clasped a hand over his mouth as he looked at the case with wide eyes, a beaming smile slowly beginning to form underneath it. And Vader could have looked at that slowly dawning sense of realization and joy the whole while it was unfolding, but the sound of a clearing throat directed his attention back over towards the clones.</p><p>‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ Appo said, staring just as wide eyed at the case as Luke and every other clone in the room. ‘Did you just say <em>you</em> finished it—’</p><p>‘I did,’ he answered curtly. ‘The prosthesis Luke will be receiving will be of our shared design and my make.’</p><p><em>‘Your</em> design,’ Luke correctly quickly, never taking his eyes off the case. ‘I just helped finetune it here and there.’</p><p>‘You did quite a bit more than that, little one,’ he retorted. ‘It was a shared design, as it should be. Now then, shall we take a look—’</p><p>He was cut off by the door lock clicking open and the pneumatic hiss of the actual door sliding open, footsteps making themselves known, and Vader quickly realized he had allowed himself to get distracted by the little star and the vod’e to the point that he had missed the approach of the Medics.</p><p>Apparently, that little less than an hour had passed, and it was time for the moment of truth as Luke's neural-connection ports would, hopefully for the last time, be scrutinized by Medic Pelli to judge whether or not the bacta had integrated the ports far enough into the little star’s body to be considered fully healed.</p><p>Medic Pelli, who was currently striding into the room alongside Medic Valent, was scanning over all of them with an inscrutable gaze, the effect of which was unfortunately ruined by the fact that the Force hummed with equal amounts of nervous energy from Luke and her.</p><p>‘Gentlefolk,’ she greeted the room at large, offering a small bow aimed towards Vader, before turning her attention solely towards Luke. ‘Now then, I doubt anyone here is much in the mood for small talk, so should we simply begin, Luke?’</p><p>Luke nodded eagerly, as he smiled at her. ‘Yes, please! I’m ready to get rid of this bandage.’ He turned towards Medic Valent with just as bright a smile and nodded towards her too. ‘And hello to you too, Mira,’ he said happily.</p><p>‘Hey, kid,’ she greeted back with a grin, placing the metal trays she was holding down on the nightstand with a thump. ‘Let’s get this done, shall we? I’m sure you’re tired of the smell of pineapple by now.’</p><p>Pelli rolled her eyes good naturedly at her colleague but refrained from making a comment, instead choosing to focus on Luke. ‘You are aware that that might not happen for a bit longer yet if this examination fails to live up to expectations, right?’ she asked as she walked over towards Luke's bedside, Vader carefully stepping out of her way to allow her the space needed to work.</p><p>‘Sure,’ Luke agreed. ‘But I’ve got a good feeling about this,’ he said as he flashed her a beaming smile, ‘I don’t think I’ll be wearing this bandage for much longer.’</p><p>‘Well then,’ she said as she took a seat smiling slightly, ‘We’ll see whether your hypothesis is right or not, hm? Arm please.’</p><p>Luke stuck out his bandaged arm, and with quick, deft motions, Medic Pelli began unwinding the thick cloth packaging around the stump that held the bactapatches in place. Ream after ream of cloth fell away, gathered up by Medic Valent and placed into one of the metal trays. Up, over, under and once more, until at last the transparent plastic of the bactapatches became visible, a by-now familiar cloudy color.</p><p>Once those too had been removed, Valent handed Pelli a towel with which she swiftly began to wipe away the residual bacta in deft motions. Once the towel was nearly dripping with the thick, viscous fluid and Luke's arm was nearly entirely dry, she began her examination.</p><p>Already Vader could see that her examination was proceeding much quicker, making it clear who the trained professional in this aspect was between the two of them, even if he did have two decades of experience caring for amputee stumps under his belt. He also suspected that the ability to examine for potential wounds would be helped by being able to visually distinguish more than just various shades of red, even if he had become rather proficient in differentiating between those.</p><p>Trailing her fingers along the ports and pushing them in all manner of directions with all the gentle patience of a healer, she worked her way through the gridwork of the smaller neural-connection ports, her smile growing minutely with each one. When the last of the neural-connection ports had been checked and she moved on to the two last anchor ports, the whole room was abuzz with anticipation and a tumbled mess of joyous and nervous emotions that he hardly had the time to bother unraveling.</p><p>When she was apparently satisfied with how the anchor ports had integrated as well, she fished out a peculiar, nearly pen-like device and two plastic cases that looked like it contained disposable attachments.</p><p>Attaching the first to the device with a click and a snap of the plastic that left behind a thin, needle-like tip, she took a hold of the arm once more. ‘Alright, Luke,’ she said, a hint of joy tinging her voice even as her signature practically <em>sang</em> with it, ‘This is a tool to help with the neural-connection assessment. In order to get a proper read on how well your nerves are communicating with the ports, I’m going to have to insert this into them and stimulate the nerves a little to get a read on them. It should tingle, but not hurt, okay? If it hurts, something is amiss, and I need you to tell me right away, understand?’</p><p>Luke nodded swiftly, determination overtaking his expression as he looked at the ports scattered over his stump. ‘Yes, sir,’ he acknowledged seriously.</p><p>Medic Pelli nodded in return and spun the instrument around in her hand. ‘Alright then, let’s begin.’ With that, she inserted the very tip of the needle into the cylindrical indent of the first port, and Vader could pinpoint the exact moment that the device activated with the shiver that ran through Luke's body.</p><p>‘Any pain?’ Pelli asked, concern tinging her signature as she read off the results on the little holodisplay.</p><p>‘None,’ Luke answered immediately, and the Force rang with the truth. ‘It feels oddly tingly just like you said, but no pain.’</p><p>Pelli hummed as she pulled the tester out of the port. ‘Well, that one’s a full clear, so only a couple more than a dozen to go.’ After that, the process sped up, with Medic Pelli swiftly inserting the testing tool into one port after the other, only speaking to check on Luke's wellbeing and state that the port was clear. After the last of the minor ports was clear, she popped off the current attachment into the medical tray Valent held up for her, and with the same motions she attached a different attachment, larger and blunter than the last, clearly meant for the anchor ports.</p><p>‘Alright,’ she said as she held the tester by the radius port. ‘Now, I’m afraid that these two <em>are</em> going to hurt a bit,’ she said as she flashed Luke an apologetic smile that quickly turned sympathetic as Luke clenched his jaw. ‘It’s only these two that are left though, and they should take only about five seconds each, so… try to hang in there.’</p><p>‘Won’t blame you if you want to hold someone’s hand, kid,’ Valent told him sympathetically, the lines in her face emphasizing her grimace. ‘Squeezing something can certainly take your mind off of things.’</p><p>Luke shot a quick, worried look towards Vader, and no more words were needed for him to take up position at Luke's left side and offer his hand to the little star. An offer that was gratefully accepted as the Force hummed with a brief flash of comfort and calm.</p><p>To Medic Pelli's credit, while her Force signature flared with a small measure of surprise, none of it showed in her face, and merely clenched her own jaw when Luke nodded. ‘Alright, one the count of three. One, two—’</p><p>The tester went into the radius port and immediately Luke hissed through clenched teeth as his signature lit up with pain, the hand in Vader's own squeezing tightly. One, two, three, four agonizingly slow seconds passed before Pelli took the tester out of the port with all due haste, Luke's shoulders slumping in relief, sweat beading on his brow.</p><p>‘Clear,’ she told him as she read off the numbers displayed on the screen, before looking back up to Luke. ‘Do you think you can handle the ulna as well, Luke?’</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Luke panted, shaking his head as the afterimages of pain still rang in the Force. ‘Let’s get this over with.’</p><p>Pelli pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded, bringing up the tester to the final anchor port. ‘Alright, one, two—’</p><p>Another flare of pain shook through the Force, and Vader watched helplessly as Luke once more gritted his teeth against a torment he was unable to stop and could only hope would end in one, two, three, four—</p><p>‘Clear,’ Pelli said as she pulled out the tester, Luke slumping even deeper this time as the pain fully ebbed away. ‘That’s an all clear.’</p><p><em>‘Thank the fucking Desert</em><em>,’</em> Luke muttered under his breath in his own tongue, and Vader couldn’t help but agree. <em>That</em> was something he hoped the little star would never have to do again.</p><p>While Luke caught his breath, Pelli began filing in the results into her datapad, measuring the results against the baseline averages, and smiling as the results came in. ‘Well,’ she said lightly, a smile firmly in place. ‘It’s safe to say that according to all parameters, you’re ready to be taken off of the bacta entirely, Luke.’</p><p>Loud cheers rung out through the recovery ward as the clones clapped and whistled, Luke grinning wide as he rested his torso against Vader's side. ‘Guess this means I’m ready for a prosthesis now?’ he asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.</p><p>Pelli glanced over the numbers one last time with a critical eye, everyone who was able in the ward holding their breath for her verdict, until, at last, she smiled again and nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, you are.’</p><p>The cheers swelled into something truly deafening as the clones slapped each other on the back and even leaned in to ruffle Luke's hair with wide smiles, celebrating like a battle had been won, and Vader couldn’t have agreed more with the sentiment.</p><p>Luke, for his part, sighed deeply and let himself relax fully against Vader's side, the Force coming to life with a bright, powerful feeling of relief, excitement, and a quite undercurrent of something bittersweet and hopeful that tasted like memories. Vader rubbed a thumb over the back of the hand still loosely resting in his grasp, sending waves of something warm and soft over the fledgling bond as best he could.</p><p>Luke casted a quick glance and smile up at him, but just as quickly turned his attention back towards the case still resting on the bed directly opposite to him. ‘Then… can I try it now?’ he asked nervously, gaze switching back and forth between Medic Pelli and Valent. ‘It’s right there, after all.’</p><p>Pelli's eyes widened in surprise as she herself cast over a glance towards the case, bafflement sparking in the Force even as her face gave away only the minimal amount of information. ‘I was… under the impression that a prosthesis would be still some ways off from completion,’ she muttered, eyeing the case with utter neutrality and only an edge of suspicion coloring her voice.</p><p>‘It was,’ Vader confirmed, drawing the attention present towards himself as he tilted his head, considering the case. ‘However, the information you received has become outdated since then, Medic Pelli. With the aid of Luke, I was able to fully refine the design for the prosthesis within just a few days, and I completed the construction of said prosthesis only a little over an hour ago. It is fully functional however, and ready to be tested by its intended user.’</p><p>Medic Pelli blinked once, but quickly realigned her mind to the new information, once again sorting through the data in front of her with a critical eye. ‘Well, in that case,’ she said pensively, scrolling slowly through the results of the data comparison, ‘I would give it perhaps a little more time for the nerves to calm after their test, or establishing a connection might aggravate the ache left behind in the ulna and radius ports.’ She closed out the data and rested the pad on her lap. ‘But otherwise you should still be ready to be fitted with a prosthesis. A ten-minute wait for your nerves to calm down, I would say. Then attempt to establish a connection.’</p><p>Luke made a soft noise that, even with the Dark to aid him, Vader couldn’t easily interpret, the child’s emotions a knot of complicated and contradictory feelings that tangled even further at those words. However, in the end he nodded and conceded easily to Medic Pelli's advice. ‘Ten minutes on the clock then,’ he muttered quietly, sighing deeply. ‘I don’t suppose someone can set a timer?’</p><p>‘On it,’ both Volt and Slice said simultaneously as they accessed their gauntlet’s datacenter to set the timer, neither pausing in their task whatsoever as the other did the exact same one right next to them, a situation comedic enough that it at the very least got a slight laugh out of the little one.</p><p>‘Thanks guys,’ he said quietly, still leaning against Vader for support and seemingly fully content in that position. ‘I appreciate it.’</p><p>‘No problem, sir,’ Volt replied as he dropped his gauntlet, the built-in datacenter beeping twice to signify the start of the countdown, only slightly offset by the gauntlet of his twin doing the exact same thing.</p><p>Slice nodded in agreement. ‘No trouble at all, sir.’ He then tilted his head as he glanced towards the case. ‘Now, I know I just set the timer, but… am I the only one incredibly curious as to how that thing looks?’</p><p><em>‘No,’</em> half of the Troopers immediately, in perfect sync. ‘Absolutely not,’ Boomer added on for further emphasis before turning his gaze towards Luke and Vader, eyes wide and pleading. ‘C’mon, please, sirs? Can’t we already have look at what you two cooked up? <em>Please?’</em> he asked, hands folded in a ridiculous begging gesture he had no idea how the man expected it to be successful. Or at least, not successful on him.</p><p>Luke, on the other hand, seemed to be more permissively inclined, as he laughed and nodded. ‘Fine, fine, I gotta say, I’m rather curious too.’ He glanced up towards Vader, something sparking and twinkling in the two bright eyes. ‘What do you think? Can we have a look?’</p><p>Force, he couldn’t say “no” to those eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that that might become a problem in the future, but at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Huffing out a breath, he inclined his head. ‘Very well, little one,’ he allowed, ‘Let us take a look.’</p><p>Triumphant sounds and even more cheers sounded through the recovery ward, both him and the Medics looking on in amusement as the clones trudged over to grab the case off the bed, hauling it over to Luke where it was placed beside him on the covers.</p><p>Luke pulled in his legs as the case was placed in front of him, and, under the expectant and excited gazes of the clones, he carefully clicked the lock on the case open and lifted the lid.</p><p>The nova of awe, joy, and excitement that burst to life in the Force with all the power of a star was both as blinding as it was welcome, Luke gasping happily as he clapped a hand over his mouth. The clones whistled lowly and made exclamations of similar awe, but Luke's sheer and vertigo-inducing power of emotions meant that Vader hardly registered them at all.</p><p>Dropping his hand from where it was covering his face, Luke beamed, wide and teary and <em>bright</em> at the sight of the prosthesis that lay within the box, emotions slowly settling in from an explosive nova into something quieter, and yet, no less powerful. Gratitude that chased through the air, twinklings of awe, and a sweet, deep warmth that reminded him all too much of a memory, half buried underneath the sands of time, from a night in the Desert with his Mother all those lifetimes ago, watching the stars. The little star slowly shook his head as he made a gasping noise that sounded all too close to a sob. ‘I love it,’ he said softly, voice fragile. ‘It’s perfect.’</p><p>‘I… am glad you think so, Luke,’ he responded just as softly.</p><p>‘It’s a bit more than perfect!’ Boomer said loudly, hands interlinked on top of his head. ‘Just <em>look</em> at that thing!’</p><p>‘It’s some impressive engraving, sir,’ Cody agreed with a slight nod as he looked down into the case, approval ringing through his signature.</p><p>‘Forget the engraving, look at the color!’ Slice said, reaching a hand out and pulling it back at the last second, as if afraid of damaging the lightsaber resistant construct.</p><p>‘I must say,’ Medic Pelli said as she leaned in from her seat to peer into the case. ‘I don’t think I have ever seen a prosthesis quite like it, even in all my years of working with amputees.’ She eyed Vader with a bit of wariness, but curiosity seemed to overwhelm her caution towards him. ‘If I may ask, what is it made from? What’s the design? Normally one doesn’t see completely encapsulating plating like this unless it’s on a non-neural-connected prosthesis.’</p><p>‘Phirril,’ he answered curtly, ‘And the encapsulation is an optical illusion. In truth, the casing is made of many different panels that all interlock with one another. They will allow for mobility and flexibility when the hand rotates and bends.’</p><p>Pelli made an intrigued sound as she leant further in over the case. ‘Grooveless fits… most intriguing, I wouldn’t have thought of them.’</p><p>Vader didn’t bother acknowledging her mutterings when the corner of his eye caught Luke carefully reaching into the case and pulling out the prosthesis, laying it over his lap as he examined the hand from all different angles. The hand, the wrist, the arm, the socket that would fit and cover his stump, and especially the connectors lining the inside. Tiny nubs of blunt, needle-like connector rods each around the length of a fingernail covered the whole inside of the socket in the exact same grid-like pattern as the ports on Luke's arm. Reaching his hand in, Luke thumbed one of the rods, the little thing rolling back and forth in its ball socket as Luke fiddled with it.</p><p>‘How will I fit all of those into the ports at the same time?’ he asked, concern layering his voice as he fiddled a bit more with the connectors. ‘They all seem a bit too wriggly to just politely cooperate.’</p><p>‘Magnetism,’ he answered promptly, well familiar with the workings of a more modern prosthesis than his own. ‘Both your ports and the connector rods are slightly magnetized, and will attract one another into the proper position easily. All you will need to do is align them properly,’ he assured.</p><p>‘Is that how it’ll work with the anchor ports as well?’ Luke asked while eyeing the far larger twin connectors that would slot into the anchor ports.</p><p>‘Partially,’ he answered as Luke lightly traced a finger over them. ‘You will need to align those manually, but there will be magnetism as well as a mechanical locking mechanisms in place to prevent the arm from simply detaching at the slightest outside force.’</p><p>‘In other words,’ Luke muttered, a light smile dancing around the corners of his mouth as he traced the parts of the prosthesis that would grant him the ability to feel with two hands once more, ‘You lock it in, and load on up.’</p><p>He huffed out a soft laugh and relished in how it made near everyone but Luke rear back in surprise at the odd sound his vocoder produced with the input given. ‘Yes, I suppose that is about accurate.’</p><p>Luke grinned as he looked up at him, wonder and excitement written all over his face and within the Force, Vader's chest full and light with pride at the fact that he had been able to inspire such feelings within the little star. ‘So, how much longer until we can give it a spin—?’</p><p>It must have been the Force. There was simply no other explanation given for the fact that both Volt and Slice’s gauntlets started chiming at nearly that exact moment, the beats slightly off cadence to each other and forming a cheery chorus. A coincidence to the extreme.</p><p>‘Well,’ Luke said as he cast an equally amused and baffled look at the two Troopers currently busy attempting to shut off the timers, ‘It seems my question answered itself.’</p><p>‘Indeed it did,’ Vader agreed, watching the Troopers flail with some amusement before directing himself back towards Luke. ‘Are you ready to proceed then? There is no residual discomfort?’</p><p>‘Nope!’ Luke informed him cheerfully, even as his signature rang with a giddy nervousness. Heaving out a deep breath, Luke squared his shoulders as he nodded. ‘Let’s do this.’ He smiled as he switched his gaze back and forth between Vader and Medic Pelli. ‘What’s the first step to all this?’</p><p>Medic Pelli huffed out a slight laugh and slid her chair backwards, stepping slightly out of the way. ‘I will leave this one to you, my Lord,’ she said with a slight bow. ‘I don’t think I’d be able to outdo the designer in this aspect.’</p><p>Nodding as he stepped forward, he pulled in the chair with a thread of the Dark. ‘Very well, Medic Pelli,’ he rumbled out, sinking down into the chair until he was at a more equal height with Luke, the little star blinking at the change of person next to his bed but beaming wide as Vader reached out to guide him in how to attach his prosthesis for the very first time.</p><p>‘I designed the ports to be easy to attach and detach, even as this is a prosthesis made for long term wear and will not need to be detached for any reasons other than maintenance or comfort,’ he explained as he slid a hand under Luke's own to guide him in angling the socket for proper attachment. ‘Due to the magnetics I explained earlier, you will only need to worry about aligning the two rigid anchor connectors, the others will follow suit.’</p><p>‘So, like this?’ Luke asked as he tilted the socket slightly to the side to even out the ulna and radius connectors with the corresponding ports.</p><p>‘Exactly like that,’ he confirmed. ‘Now then, simply keep your arm steady as you slide them in and—’</p><p>Luke followed his instructions to the letter and with a hiss of air getting sucked out of the seals and a click of the magnetics slotting into place, the hand attached itself over the stump of Luke's right arm.</p><p>‘Just like that,’ he whispered breathlessly as Luke shivered through the sensation of the neural-connection awakening for the first time, the Force chirping with a mixture of surprise and mild confusion.</p><p>Luke hissed as he vigorously rubbed at the arm. ‘Ohh, that feels <em>weird—’</em> And promptly froze in place as a realization visibly hit home with the impact of a meteor in a manner that Vader could understand all too well, even if he was sure that his experience had never been as intense as what Luke was living through right this moment.</p><p>‘I can feel it,’ he stated, voice flat even as the shock visibly set in, eyes wide as he pressed his other hand a bit firmer onto the enameled metal. ‘It feels— <em>weird</em> but I— I <em>can</em> feel it,’ he said, voice breathless with the realization, something building deep within the iridescent star of his signature.</p><p>‘Try to move it like you would your flesh and blood hand,’ he suggested quietly, enchanted by what was happening in front of him.</p><p>Luke did, and when the prosthetic hand, pale and strange with its enamel designs and joints of mirror-polished brass, moved for the first time, delicately lifting up from the bed as the fingers soundlessly, effortlessly uncurled and splayed wide, he didn’t think anything would ever quite compare to the little star’s silent awe as the prosthesis behaved exactly like a hand should.</p><p>For a moment, the recovery ward was utterly silent as Luke carefully ran the gamut of motions and gestures with his new hand, curling and uncurling the fingers in all manner of configurations and rolling the wrist at the same time. Not once did the prosthesis falter or fail.</p><p>A quiet shuddering gasp rose into the air as Luke, eyes wide and watery, carefully ran his two palms along each other, threading the fingers together, the soft, silicone finger pads flattening slightly under the pressure and sending all manner of sensory information through the artificial nerves.</p><p>It wouldn’t be as detailed as his organic hand, Vader knew. Technology simply hadn’t progressed far enough yet to perfectly mimic the sensations human nerves could detect and transmit, but—</p><p>It was still more than he would be able to feel without the prosthesis.</p><p>It was <em>something</em><em>.</em></p><p>He nearly didn’t dare move as he watched Luke test out his new hand, his Force signature spiking alternatively with shock and joy at every new thing he tried, giddy like the child he still somewhat was.</p><p>Then Luke's gaze and beaming smile turned towards him, bright and open and full of joy and awe at experiencing something new and strange and Vader froze even further, would have stopped breathing if his respirator allowed for it. Slowly, with a bit of hesitation, he held up his artificial hand towards Vader, the engraved palm and fingers splayed outwards in invitation.</p><p>With his own moment of hesitation, he lifted up his own hand, splaying out his fingers much like Luke and accepting the invitation for touch, carefully pressing his own, leather covered palm to Luke's, threading their fingers together loosely.</p><p>He couldn’t feel much more than the pressure from it, but he hardly needed to, not when Luke's smile and signature nearly went nova with a deep, heartfelt joy that was nearly blinding to look at.</p><p>He could feel the eyes of the clones and Medics upon them, but in that moment, they, or anyone else, hardly mattered at all.</p><p>Because here was Luke, his little star, his Home, beaming bright with tears in his eyes as, for the first time, he reached out and touched another person with his new hand. And the person he chose for that, against all logic and reasoning, was him, Darth Vader, as the Force sang with joy and a deep, all-encompassing warmth, settling deep into his bones and blood like it wished to become a part of his very core.</p><p>And seated there amidst the Force and Dark, fingers intertwined with a nova of joy and gratitude, for a moment he could think something daring.</p><p>He could think that it was a warmth that felt like love.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
<li>
<a id="note19" name="note19"></a>[19] <em>Phirril:</em> a rare metal with the unusual property of being lightsaber resistant. Extremely light and durable, it was known to be excellent for the production of armor and weaponry, but prohibitive due to its high cost. 
Known in canon as phrik, I changed the name because I fucking hate it, and refuse to type a word that—to my brain, looks for all the world like an unholy combination of “frick” and “prick” in a dick joke so bad I actually cringed—any more than necessary. Thus, it is now phirril, and no, I will not take criticism, because as said in the tags of this story, canon is dead to me. Especially when it comes up with stupid names like this.<sup><a href="#back19">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then, here we are, and it only took us fourteen chapters, but we're finally back to the point where Luke has two hands and no longer needs to be knocked out of the action on occasion. See the results of that decision next Sunday, until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Drown You In History Of All Those Who Died</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke is bored out of his mind as he waits out his adjustment period in the recovery ward. Luckily, there is more than one distraction to be found, and a little bit of Tatooine comes to life in a starship, thousands of lightyears away.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well then. We've had the prosthesis, we've had the conspiracy. Ladies, Gents, and Honors, I do believe that means it's time for me to show off a bit! </p><p>Now then, kick back, relax, and let the experience happen. And above all else, <i>enjoy.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Staring at the ceiling tiles above him, Luke Skywalker honestly, truly, hand-over-his-heart, couldn’t sleep.</p><p>His thoughts were going lightyears a minute and with the events of the day, he didn’t think they were going to stop anytime soon. Especially since he still wasn’t entirely used to the odd sensation in his right arm. His right arm, which was comprised of metal and mineral and should, by all logic, not be able to feel a thing.</p><p>And yet it did.</p><p>It felt <em>a lot.</em></p><p>The sensors in most of the arm were… somewhat dull. He could feel pressure and heat on his forearm and wrist, even if he suspected that it would be very difficult to get him to feel pain with those things in the same way they would cause pain on his organic arm. There was little that could damage it, after all.</p><p>His actual hand was a whole different matter, though.</p><p>The back of the hand and palm were largely made out of the same engraved metal the rest of the arm, but in a few strategic places the hard metal made way for soft, flexible patches of silicon mesh that squished and shifted much like skin would, even as the texture was more that of a soft and slightly textured vinyl. And it was in those patches that the majority of his sensory receptors were apparently located.</p><p>Pressure, heat, texture—he could feel practically everything with them that he could with his normal hand, even if it seemed like there was a constant sort of… film between him and the thing he was touching. Like he was wearing a glove over his hand in which the finer details of texture and temperature often got lost. It was a… strange sensation, and one that he wasn’t entirely too sure about yet, or even quite used to.</p><p>One thing he did agree with now that he’d had the prosthesis for a couple hours was what Vader had often told him: he really could just… feel it become another part of him. Not a hunk of metal, mineral, and alloys attached to his arm, but an actual limb that could feel and function, if not in the same capacity as his organic arm, then well enough in different fields.</p><p>He huffed out a breath as he stared towards the blank ceiling, bringing up his right arm in front of his face once more, slowly curling and uncurling the fingers. There wasn’t even any sound as the parts flexed and bent and tilted from side to side. No sound, no faltering in the mechanism, nothing. Just as he had suspected, Vader was more than capable of giving him a run for his money when it came to mechanics and engineering, and it seemed that the man had at last been motivated enough to do so.</p><p>Now here he was, laying in the darkened recovery ward, unable to sleep a wink as all the odd and peculiar sensations that still came with the prosthesis were still too new to ignore, staring at a marvel of modern engineering. He didn’t know how long it would remain a marvel to others as well—technology marched ever onwards, after all—but he already knew that it would never stop being extraordinary to him.</p><p>Vader had made this for him. <em>Him</em><em>.</em> He had seen how much time and effort the man had poured into making everything just right, from the very basics of the system to Luke's admittedly more useless requests regarding the aesthetic, even if he had exactly zero regrets making said requests. Even less so when the dim, faintly moon-like light of the nightlights within the recovery ward reflected off of the glossy white enamel, giving the whole thing a near ethereal look to it.</p><p>No, he <em>really</em> didn’t regret requesting a more mechanical look.</p><p>Even if seeing it move as it did sometimes make him wonder if the odd, nearly song-like quality coming from the arm wasn’t the result of a little bit of magic the man had woven into the design.</p><p>Huffing out a soft laugh at his own thoughts, he let his hand drop back down to his chest, resting atop the covers, and drifted back into his thoughts in the darkened ward.</p><p>Vader wasn’t here at the moment; the man had needed to leave in order to get some of his own work done, even if he had promised to return in the morning at the latest in order to accompany him to his first physical examination and perhaps physical therapy session, depending on how well the integration of his hand had gone. Luke wished he could have joined him there, if only for something to do, but he was to be kept in the medical wing for at least another couple of days for observations, if not a week.</p><p>Apparently, losing a limb wasn’t something they just allowed you to shrug off with copious amounts of bacta and then go right back to work. You actually had to sit still for a moment and allow the professionals to do their jobs. Which Luke, at the very least, could understand.</p><p>Unfortunately, recovery for him meant slowly restoring energy levels—no more anesthetics to knock him out cold and no way to get himself tired when his brain was still in overdrive over the fact that one of his arms was now not only made of metal, but also sending his brain some of the weirdest sensory data it had probably ever received. Even weirder than that time when Biggs had dared him to stick his hand into an old container that they’d found buried in the desert and he’d stuck his hand right into something that had been both dead and clearly inside that container for some time.</p><p>And he could understand the need to keep him in the recovery ward for a bit longer, and maybe even the mandatory bedrest. (Even though it was his arm that had been injured and his feet were fine.) But Luke, for the life of him, couldn’t understand how they expected him to sleep when he could have told them right from the beginning that that wasn’t going to be the case.</p><p>So that’s where he was right now. In bed, dutifully staying there, <em>not</em> sleeping.</p><p>He groaned out in frustration and pushed himself up, rearranging his pillows so that he could rest propped up against the headboard and grabbed his comm off of the nightstand. This whole “attempting to sleep” effort was clearly going nowhere, so he might as well get some things done.</p><p>Opening the GMN menu, he went into the chat function that he and all the members within the network used to share information on tasks needing to be done, updates on their own status, and shameless general gossip about anything and everything going on aboard the Lady. As far as he knew, he and Vader were the only organics that were a part of the droid-only chatroom—something he had thought the droids would want just for themselves—and that had only happened because they had requested for them both to join once Luke had told them the function of the chatroom. Apparently, the droids considered Vader an honorary droid for reasons Luke was fairly certain had something to do with the man’s ability to speak fluent binary, his great tolerance that bordered on affection for the droids of the Lady, and, now that he knew, the fair number of mechanics that were a part of his own body.</p><p>The endlessly scrolling messages of the chatroom as droids continuously uploaded and shared information in mere moments was almost dizzying to anyone not used to it. Fortunately, Luke was very used to it and the moment he switched his status within the chatroom to “online,” he was practically drowned in a text wall of various greetings and well-wishes from the droids.</p><p>Chuckling, he began to write back and couldn’t help the wide smile as the chat immediately fell silent as the writing notification popped up next to his icon.</p><p>
  
</p>
<ol>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Hey guys :) </em>
</ol><p> </p><p>The response was near instantaneous.</p><p>
  
</p>
<ol>
<em>MD-03: Shouldn’t you be asleep, sir? </em>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Unfortunately, recovering on bedrest means regaining a lot of energy with nothing to spend it on :( My brain is running lightyears a second and refusing to even consider sleep, so I thought I would try to get some things done instead, or at least keep myself busy.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>PT-3T: Query: What is the status of Hd. Eng. Lars?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Statement: I wish to know as well. Query: Has maintenance been completed on Hd. Eng. Lars?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: @MD-03, didn’t you tell them? Or any of you @MDs?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: I did, but they simply refuse to accept the data unless it comes from the primary source.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-29: I had a similar issue as well.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-74: As did I.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Emmy, you can’t just </em>ignore<em> a dataset just because it didn’t come from me</em><em> -_-</em></p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Statement: You are avoiding the query.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>HS-0S: Agreed.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: I’m fine, I’m essentially fully operational again :) They’re just keeping me in maintenance to make sure that there aren’t any hidden issues remaining ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Query: Is the replacement component adequate?</em>
</p>

<p><em>Hd. Eng. Lars: More than! :D @darthvader did a fantastic job on the mechanics! </em> <em>⋄ ° ⋆ ◕‿◕ ⋆ ° ⋄</em> <em>I regained functions that I didn’t think I would, and while they’re still integrating into my system, the update should be installed soon and I should have little issue ^_^</em></p>

<p>
  <em>MD-51: That is a great relief to hear, sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>IO-3TP: Does this mean we will be seeing you in active duty once more?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Active? Maybe. But I’ll be kept on light duty for at least a little while. Once I get back on my feet, we’re gonna have a lot of work to do though :/</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: I did not doubt that for a moment, sir. All the organics within the Engineering Corps are talking about how they have had to split the workload between what they believe they will be able to finish without you and what they will need your presence for.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: O.O Aw, shit. Really? </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>DT-K83: Unfortunately, I can confirm @VD-O13’s statement, sir. Work has not begun or continued on various projects because they do not have faith that they will be able to do your vision justice without guidance. I am paraphrasing, of course.</em>
</p>
</ol><p> </p><p>Luke dropped his head back against his pillow as he dragged a hand over his face. Suns and sand, he’d have to get started on those instructional videos faster than he’d thought. Shaking his head, he once more began tapping away at his comm.</p><p>
  
</p>
<ol>
<em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Tell me that at least Erribas is continuing work as usual?</em>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Statement: Sensor data contains speech of Vc. Eng. Lyvon instructing the Engineering Corps to continue operations as normal.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: @EM-33 is right, sir. Regular operations are continuing, but any projects that you started are at a standstill at the moment as a result of your incapacitation.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Remind me to see about giving them a raise.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Mission acquired. Mission status: pending.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Thanks, Emmy &lt;3</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: &lt;3</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Anything else I should be aware of?</em>
</p>

<p><em>RX-56: Statement: The biohazards left after [NAME BLACKLISTED]</em> <em>’s execution</em> <em> have been fully cleaned and the area disinfected.</em></p>

<p>
  <em>IDM-10: Statement: The biohazards that resulted from [13 NAMES BLACKLISTED]’s executions have been fully cleaned and the area disinfected.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>RX-56: Statement: @IDM-10 should keep to their lane.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>IDM-10: Statement: The more successful lane with which @RX-56 cannot hope to compete.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>RX-56: Statement: @IDM-10 could not compete with an obsolete model with a blade taped on top of their chassis.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: O_O; Okayyyy, that’s quite enough you two. I don’t want to get any damage reports with either of your names on it, got it? </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>RX-56: Order status: Received.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>IDM-10: Order status: Received.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Thank you. Anything else?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Negative. </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>RX-56: Negative.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>IDM-10: Negative.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: Nothing from me either, sir.</em></p>
</ol><p> </p><p>Luke frowned as he stared at his screen, wondering if he should impose himself to ask them to get him something to keep himself entertained, before eventually concluding that they’d tell him they had a full schedule if they didn’t want to do it.</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<em>Hd. Eng. Lars: In that case, may I make a personal request? </em>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: Certainly, sir. </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Affirmative.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: If I go much longer without something to do, I’ll pretty much start climbing the walls, and I’m currently locked out of much of my workload due to being registered as in maintenance :(</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-74: Sir, I will not help you defy medical orders.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-51: Neither will I.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Noted, but that’s not what I’m asking XD I need something to do, and in my quarters there’s a musical instrument</em> <em> that would at least keep me entertained with thinking up new tunes. It’s ceramic, about the size of a large pendant, with twelve holes of various sizes, and has a seal stamped on it. Would there be anyone willing to get it for me? </em></p>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: Would this help your mental wellbeing, sir?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Immensely ^_^</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: Then I am authorized to retrieve it. If you would send me an access code for your quarters, sir?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: :D You’re a blessing, MD. Give me a second.</em></p>
</ol><p> </p><p>Tapping out of the chatroom for a moment, Luke pulled up his security center and quickly generated a one-time access code for his quarters and sent it to MD-03’s personal URL within the GMN.</p><p>
  
</p>
<ol>
<em>Hd. Eng. Lars: You should have it now :D</em>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: Affirmative. I just received your authorization.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Thanks again, MD &lt;3</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: It is no trouble, sir. No trouble whatsoever. Where would I be able to find the instrument?</em>
</p>

<p><em>Hd. Eng. Lars: In a wooden case on my caff table in the living room. It’s next to the terrarium with the shiranaa tree</em> <em> in it,</em> <em> can’t miss it! ^_^</em></p>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: Affirmative. I will retrieve it in a moment. Is there anything else you would request? </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: I don’t suppose there’s any way to get me cleared for anything other than bedrest any time soon?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-03: With all due respect, sir, hell no.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: ;_; Worth a shot. But no, there’s nothing then. Should I leave all of you to your duties, or can I intrude on your time a bit longer?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>HS-0S: Sir, with respect, we are not organics. We are efficient and can multitask. Feel free to keep talking it, it is exercising my processors while I work.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: I share @HS-0S’s sentiment, sir. It is always a pleasure talking to you.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Now, I *know* I took the loyalty chip out of you so you would no longer have to say that, VD. What happened? ¬_¬</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: I gained an appreciation for a particular organic’s slow manner of communication, sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Uh huh. No one replaced your loyalty chip? </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: No, sir, they don’t dare interfere with members of the GMN for fear of invoking the wrath of you or the Supreme Commander. </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: I— Well then. ;_; The sentiment is appreciated, VD</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>VD-O13: It is echoed by many of us, sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-74: He is correct, sir. </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>RX-56: Affirmative.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Thank you, guys &lt;3 It… means a lot to me. More than I can properly express</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>MD-74: You are welcome, sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Speaking of loyalty chips, has anyone heard from @Free? Are they still doing okay on the ground bases they selected? </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: I know I am doing fine, sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: UT! I didn’t know we were near the Vandor sector! :D :D</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: You are currently around one-thousand parsecs from Vandor, sir. It’s close enough to pick up your direct signal. But what is it I hear about you landing yourself in maintenance and needing replacement components of all things?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: O.O I uh… I didn’t mean to? </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: Sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: I wasn’t my fault, I swear! &gt;.&lt;</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Statement: Hd. Eng. Lars was targeted by a conspiracy of traitors aimed at eliminating him and lost a component in the process.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: You *what,* sir!?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Emmyyyyyyy! &gt;A&lt; Why did you go and have to say it like that!? D:</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: I require an explanation. From the top.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>S-7RT: I do as well. What did you *do,* sir?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: @Free @Vandor</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: UT?????? O.O</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: Do you want to explain this once, sir? Or every time an @Vandor @Free comes online into this chat?</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Not getting out of this one, huh? O.o;</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>EM-33: Negative.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>S-7RT: I agree. </em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: D:</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>UT-6T: Please start explaining, sir.</em>
</p>

<p>
  <em>Hd. Eng. Lars: Alright, alright! Don’t shoot! &gt;.&lt; So it all started a week ago and—</em></p>
</ol><p> </p><p>He didn’t know quite how much time passed while he gave an explanation to the GMN and the droids who’d decided to transfer to safer, less-militarized planet-side installations, in this case Vandor. His chrono may be displayed at the top of his screen, but if anyone thought he was paying attention to the little numbers while telling his story, they were dead wrong.</p><p>The whole story of betrayal, treason, and the loss of a limb, (at which point he was obliged to supply a picture of his new limb, for which he finally had a reason to slice into the recovery ward’s lighting to get some good pictures) was told at length. It was, honestly, rather… fun to speak of it all. Oh sure, there was more trauma there than he could shake a stick at, but simply talking about it helped organize some of the more disjointed moments in his memories, and the droids were exceptional at catching all manner of inconsistencies and asking for clarification, helping him sort through his own mental timeline of the events in the process.</p><p>He got so involved, in fact, that he almost didn’t notice it when the distinctive, rhythmic presence of a droid approached the doors to the recovery ward. Almost.</p><p>Looking up as he signed off a quick goodbye, he saw the door’s lock disengage and slide open easily as the distinctly-spindly and humanoid frame of a MD class medical nurse droid stepping through the frame, carefully holding something small and delicate in his graspers.</p><p>Smiling as the droid approached in his trademark hobbling gait, he greeted him fondly. ‘Hey, Emdee.’</p><p>‘Greetings to you too, sir,’ the medical droid returned, something fond drifting through his tone and the air. ‘I’m afraid I do not have much time to stay in person, but it is a pleasure to see you whole and hale once more. I did find your instrument, and may I say, I have never quite seen one like it? My databanks do not contain anything similar either.’</p><p>Luke chuckled as the droid carefully handed over the ceramic pendant ocarina, catching the cord of beaded jerba leather it was hung from around his fingers. ‘You wouldn’t,’ he agreed, ‘It is something of an open secret on Tatooine, and not one we normally advertise. This is a pendant ocarina, though you may be more familiar with the other variants that we <em>do</em> let outsiders use and purchase.’</p><p>A moment passed as MD-03’s systems whirred, presumably locating the word “ocarina” in his databanks. ‘Ah,’ he said at last, tilting his head as he got a better look at the pendant Luke was holding in his hand. ‘My, that <em>does</em> look incredibly different from the other type of instrument.’</p><p>‘Which is exactly the point,’ Luke agreed as he twined the beaded leather cord around his fingers. ‘They were made to be easily disguised as something else and hidden under clothes. Music is important, especially for the people who aren’t Free.’</p><p>MD’s visual processors and presence brightened for a moment in understanding. ‘I see,’ he said easily, something conspiratorial in his tone. ‘I shall file this knowledge under patient confidentiality then?’</p><p>Luke smiled at his friend and dipped his head in a gesture of gratitude he hoped would be conveyed properly. ‘Yes, I would appreciate that,’ he agreed softly. ‘The instruments themselves aren’t particularly secret, per say, but they’re still mostly kept away from outsiders, even if the music they make isn’t.’</p><p>‘Very well then, sir,’ MD said as he straightened back up to his usual posture, ‘My databanks are sealed. Now please if you’ll excuse me, there is work to be done.’</p><p>‘Of course,’ Luke agreed readily, ‘Thank you again for delivering this to me, Emdee.’</p><p>Something flitted through the air, a warm and fond affection that had Luke momentarily stunned as MD-03 nodded. ‘It was no trouble, sir. Truly.’ And with that, he made his way out of the ward once more, the doors sliding open and shut behind him as the clanking footsteps of the medical droid retreated back into the rest of the medical wing.</p><p>Left alone once more, Luke looked at the little instrument that had been delivered to him, so small for the immense thing it represented.</p><p>Music, any type of music, from ceremonial to recreational, was a sacred thing to the Children. It was an expression of what laid inside oneself, one’s deepest feelings, desires, regrets, one’s very being. To be able to express that oneself even when words were forbidden was an invaluable gift. And so, if there were no words they could speak, they sang and made music. During celebrations, at funerals, for ceremonies, and simply because they were <em>alive</em>. If there were Children anywhere, the chance that one of them would know to play one instrument or another was near guaranteed.</p><p>Drums, flutes, rocks, the ground, even their own bodies, if it could make a sound that could carry emotion, a Child would know how to play it. And they would sing. With their voices, their hands, or their lekku. They would sing in veiled words and hidden meanings in any tongue that wasn’t their own, and Freely in their own, ancient tongue. They would sing of the Desert, Her Moons, Her Suns, and Her Storm. Sing of their veiled Names when times were desperate and the Vows made to them in turn.</p><p>They would sing of the Star Paths and Flightpaths, sing of Runners and runners and pilots and forgers and healers. Sing of the Free and Freedom, sing of the Children and Siblings and those who were still enslaved. They would <em>sing.</em> It hardly mattered where.</p><p>And if at all possible, there would be accompanying music. The stomping and clapping of work songs, rhythmic as a heartbeat. The high and deep flutes of Sandstorm songs, harmonizing with the howling wind outside, away from where the Masters would be able to hear, away from where prying ears would betray the plans spoken in song. The wild, untamed drums, rattles, and even strings of the festivals, brazen and Free where they were played for one and all to see, the Masters unable to touch their players as they were <em>Free.</em> And the low, haunting tremors of the various bells and slit-gongs used for ceremony and prayer, deep, deep within the Desert where the Masters never went.</p><p>Music, song, and dance were as much a part of the Desert and the Children as they were of it. It was within their blood and bones, buried in their very marrow and as sacred as they themselves were.</p><p>And Luke, as The Freeborn Skywalker and Runner of the Storm had taken on two sacred Vows that carried with them the obligation of learning the music that sang within his bones.</p><p><a id="back20" name="back20"></a>He still remembered the rites when he had first taken on the role of The Freeborn Skywalker and Runner of the Storm. Deep within the mountains, at the mouth of the underground river Rakka, he had sworn his Vows to the Desert and later, the Storm. Had marked himself in the Name of his father and unknown mother, mixing earth, water, and blood in a japor bowl, and drawn the marks of the Free on his face with the resulting jareshka <a href="#note20"><sup>[20]</sup></a>. Had taken on the role of First Freeborn of the Skywalker Clan and with that, the accompanying responsibility of picking an instrument and learning how to express what both his Grandmother and father might not have been able to in their lifetimes.</p><p>No one had expected him to choose the instrument he did.</p><p>Holding up the small pendant ocarina, admiring the way the lights shifted over the glossy lacquer as it slowly spun on its cord, he thought back to that first choice he’d had to make as The Freeborn Skywalker.</p><p>Perhaps he had been expected to choose a more traditional Freeborn instrument like a drum, rattle, or even the bells of Kashmi. Something that was loud and large and impossible to hide. For people who did not <em>want</em> to hide. An instrument that would grant him the responsibility to play during festivals or ceremonies, highly coveted and treasured spots. It was certainly what had been most strongly expected of him, since he possessed the proclivity for it according to the Elders, with his ability to hear stories in the wind and read the stars in the sky. A ceremonial instrument had almost been expected to be what he chose at his rites.</p><p>Instead, he had chosen the pendant ocarina. A slave instrument.</p><p>Easily learned, easily concealed, but hard to master. It was a Storm instrument, a night instrument, a travel instrument. Something to bring comfort and memories when the wind howled and the road was long. Something play whenever, wherever. Festival, funeral, ceremony, Sandstorm—it hardly mattered. Despite being mainly associated with the Sandstorm, the ocarina was an all-purpose instrument and had the prestige of one, too.</p><p>He’d chosen it nonetheless, and not soon after, he had been presented with the ocarina he now held in his hands.</p><p>Small, round, coated in a rich, black lacquer extracted from the ishla root, expensive and time-consuming to get, that had been polished to a high sheen and stamped with the colorful seal of the Storm. Threaded on a cord of jerba leather that had been beaded with round, polished beads of lapis lazuli and onyx, it had been given every effort to make it into a Freeborn instrument. No dusty red from the baked clay or plain cord that was associated with the instruments of the chained.</p><p>But for all the gloss and effort, it still couldn’t conceal what it was at its heart: a slave instrument, and an instrument that was easily concealed and taken with one on one’s person.</p><p>He supposed even then that he’d always known he would head for the stars.</p><p>Huffing out a soft laugh, he grabbed the little instrument from where it dangled on his fingers and slowly thumbed it over with his prosthetic hand. So far, his new hand had been nimble enough. However, the ocarina required a sort of finesse and swiftness he hadn’t yet tried with his hand, and as he carefully placed the soft, silicone pads over the holes, he wondered if it was up to the task.</p><p>Only one way to find out.</p><p>Placing the mouthpiece to his lips, he blew the first note into the instrument, and with it, the air.</p><p>A breathy, trilling note sang through the air, high and light, and immediately he knew what this song would be about. Hopefully his fingers would cooperate.</p><p>Switching off the notes to something a bit deeper and hollower, he began the fall from dizzying heights, the Fall of the First Runner, not yet running anywhere but their doom.</p><p>The light tapping of his fingers began a staccato pattern of highs and lows, a dash through the endless hills of the Dune Sea as they made their bid for Freedom underneath the burning Suns, their Master right on their heels.</p><p>On and on, through the vast stretch of Desert into the unknowns of the southern half of Tatooine, where even the Children rarely dared to tread for fear of the harsh climate. He traced the Suns’ paths in crescendos as they rose ever higher and then dropped below the horizon, one after the other. All while the harried pattern of footsteps running through rough sand from relentless pursuers was mirrored by Luke's fingers tapping out a frantic beat that wove into the air. On and on and on, until—</p><p>Switching off his rapid beat for longer, more stately notes as the First Runner began to tire from the great distance and time, he closed his hands in a little cover over the ocarina, the notes hollowing and echoing like they would in the proper Elder Mountains. Long, echoing notes for the Mountains said to be as old as Tatooine itself, stretching across the southern half of the planet and reaching heights unimaginable unless seen.</p><p>Jagged and rough, Luke let the notes match to those of the Mountains as the First Runner began to chase deeper and deeper into the treacherous terrain, desperate to escape the Master still pursuing them across distances unimaginable, their greed, cruelty, and lust for what was never theirs to take fueling them to keep after the First Runner.</p><p>Higher and higher they climbed, over ever rougher terrain, Luke's fingers flying to match the maddened chase across cliffs and canyons as the First Runner ran and ran and ran with as desperate a tune. Higher and higher and higher—</p><p>A sharp, screeching tone speared through the air as Luke tapped off his highest tone as quickly as he could, unstable, quivering, maddening.</p><p>Desperate.</p><p>And the First Runner fell.</p><p>They slipped along with the tones, a dizzying fall through the notes as they plummeted into The Abyss, Luke's fingers aching as he attempted to keep up with the First Runner hurtling, lurching through the air as they plunged into the greatest depths of Tatooine, where it was said the very core of the planet waited at the bottom to any foolish enough to slip in. Down, down, down, until Luke's notes couldn’t go any lower and then—</p><p>The end.</p><p>The sickening, shrill note followed by complete silence. A deep, deafening silence.</p><p>Luke panted as he regained his breath during the one, two, three beats of silence that followed, his chest heaving to bring in enough air after that hellish attempt at the Fall of the First Runner. One, two, three, then—</p><p>A miracle.</p><p>Setting his ocarina to his lips once more, Luke blew out a breathy, barely audible tone. Long, ghostly, a sound where there should be none. A saving grace at the darkest heart of the world.</p><p>The Rise after the Fall. Moonlight in the darkest night.</p><p>Soft, soothing notes, as much for his aching lungs as the broken body that lay at the bottom of The Abyss, the heart of the world. A whisper of notes, so far away, that it might as well have not existed at all. But it did, and the endless repetition of those first three notes grew louder and louder as Moonlight pieced the darkest heart of The Abyss, blinding ruined eyes. Blinding, battering, butchering.</p><p>Healing.</p><p>Let it never be said that the Moons were gentle in their kindness.</p><p>Heavy, sharp notes to underscore the wretched process of healing the three Siblings of the night brought to the First Runner wove through the lighter tones of hope. Of a chance. Of Freedom. Swelling, rousing notes that encouraged one to stand, even though it hurt, even though the broken bones of your legs were still fusing into something coherent.</p><p>Healing and pain and Moonlight and darkness, all in perfect concert as Luke tapped out the high and low notes in an intricate pattern that Luke could not explain how to create beyond the manner in which the winds showed him; through doing, and letting one’s fingers and breath be guided by the very air itself.</p><p>And then at last the First Runner took a step. Eyes opened, and Luke uncapped his hands from around the ocarina, the noted clarifying alongside the First Runner’s sight. Here they were, at the darkest heart of the world: alive.</p><p>Through sand and rock they had been chased, across the very Desert Herself until Her Child could take it no more. And yet here they were. Here they were, here they were, the notes seemed to say, a motif that cycled again and again as the Luke's fingers shook over the holes, the air shivering as it blew through and shook the notes in turn.</p><p>Now where was there to go but up?</p><p>Fingers dug into the jagged rock of the abyss and air holes of the ocarina as the First Runner and the notes rose back out of The Abyss. Heavy, thick notes, that clung to the air like the First Runner clung to the rocks of the cliffs as they pulled themselves out, step by step, higher and higher, under a steady beat.</p><p>A beat steady enough that the soft, whistling wind notes were nearly unnoticeable at first. Soft, whistling, and <em>rising.</em></p><p>Rising higher, louder, until the breath in Luke's lungs formed notes loud enough to pull at the First Runner’s bloodied and tattered body, still cling to the rock. Swelling louder and stronger, the wind notes began to take over the beat of the climbing with more and more power until it fell away altogether, the First Runner clinging to the cliffsides as Luke blew the notes of the Storm.</p><p>Tearing, destroying winds that whipped through The Abyss, howling through the ravine like a wild animal, the First Runner helplessly caught in the might and rage of the Storm until it pulled at them once, twice—</p><p>Thrice.</p><p>Luke's fingers flew as they tapped out the whirlwind in which the First Runner was caught and tossed around by the winds, yanked right off of the ravine wall and into the open air, plummeting as the Storm tore into the song, wild and untamed, sweeping the First Runner off of the side of The Abyss in a tempest of sand and wind.</p><p>Let it never be said that the Storm was gentle in their kindness.</p><p>A sharp upturn as the Storm swept the First Runner upwards, the notes spiraling into the heights after them, as wild and untamed as Luke could make them. Up, up, up, into the air, into the Desert’s embrace once more as the sand streamed past them, wings of glass forming in their wake as the Suns burned down once more.</p><p>Moons, Suns, Storm. Moons, Suns, Storm. A leitmotif that Luke knew by heart perhaps better than he knew his own.</p><p>The best of things always came in thirds on Tatooine.</p><p>And the First Runner had found themselves right in one of them.</p><p>Rising, rising, rising through the air and the notes, Luke blew out a long, haunting tone as the Desert Spoke.</p><p>Too long Her Children had been denied their Freedom. Too long the Masters had gloated and beaten and laughed and killed. Too long. And so, She would send someone. The First of many. Someone who had proven to be willing to go further and farther for Freedom than perhaps anyone else.</p><p>Would they be willing to be that someone?</p><p>Moons, Suns, Storm. Moons, Suns, Storm. A leitmotif that Luke knew by Heart.</p><p>For it was the one of the First Runner and all that came after them.</p><p>For them, for all those who tended to the Flightpaths, and for Luke. A runner he may no longer be—even if he was making something of a reprise of his role as of late—but a Runner?</p><p>He would sooner eat glass than break his Vow to the Storm.</p><p>A Vow that was made here, for the very first time, as notes spiraled and weaved through the air like the Storm that had lifted the First Runner up into the embrace of the Desert and all She was. Careful, quivering, notes stretched the moment between question and answer, the moment where it all quite literally hung in the air.</p><p>Then the agreement rang out in a strong, clear crescendo of notes that clattered like water, and Luke drew in as deep a breath as he could to prepare for The Coming of Storms. His chest swelled up, and with his fingers pressed on the beginning note of the third movement of the First Runner’s Flight.</p><p>High, trembling, a mere grain caught at the high point of a Sandstorm before the vertigo of the fall.</p><p>And fall it did.</p><p>The notes and First Runner tumbled headlong into the winds, wings of glass and gossamer trailing behind them as the Storm granted them Flight. Dipping, diving, rolling through the air, Luke's fingers swept over the ocarina in a desperate bid to match the sheer ferocity of the Storm blowing in to measure justice against the Masters.</p><p>Justice which danced amongst golden sands as the Storm blew the First Runner back across the breadth of the Desert, the Elder Mountains, the Dune Sea, back to where they came, with a purpose as new as the notes joining in the song, the previous movements reprised at as high a tempo as Luke could manage without actually skipping notes. High and low with trills and grace notes that nearly had Luke fumbling his own instrument as the First Runner soared across the skies, the Storm buffeting their wings until they, at last, landed back where they began, changed, renewed.</p><p>Free.</p><p>The coda to the movement trembled to a close as the First Runner walked over the shifting sands of the Desert, back into the city, where the slave quarters waited.</p><p>Catching his breath after the truly monumental undertaking that was playing The Coming of Storms on a pendant ocarina, Luke prepared for the optional, fourth movement to the First Runner’s Flight. The Path of Stars wasn’t as long as The Coming of Storms, but it sure as hell was just as complicated. And his fingers and breath had managed to hold out until now, so… might as well give it a shot, no?</p><p>Setting the ocarina back to his lips, Luke nearly blew the first note when a sudden noise startled him out of his concentration and had him dropping his instrument altogether, eyes snapping up towards the source of the unexpected intrusion into his concentration.</p><p>Eyes which immediately met gleaming black plastisteel armor and opaque red lenses close enough to fully startle him backwards, scrambling to catch himself on the edge of his bed so as not to roll over it head over heels.</p><p>‘Wha—!’ he yelped as he tried to right himself, scrambling at the covers as the mattress gave way under him, resulting in even more undignified sounds. A burst of static and the rapid approach of footsteps was his only warning before one hand firmly caught him by the upper arm while the other pressed heavily into his back, splayed fingers widening the surface of a stable support at his back.</p><p>Trying his best to stop flailing, Luke looked upwards towards the man who had prevented him from taking a nasty tumble and was now carefully hauling him back up. Then he huffed out an exasperated sound as the realization of who it was that was helping him finally fully sank in.</p><p>Vader.</p><p>The man had snuck up on him <em>again.</em></p><p>‘You know,’ he muttered idly as Vader carefully rightened him once more, placing him back against the fluffed-up pillows that rearranged themselves without anyone touching them, the air humming with concern, worry, and a small splash of amusement, ‘It might not be a bad idea for you to start wearing a bell. At least that way you wouldn’t keep giving me near-heart attacks.’</p><p>Vader deposited him gently against the pillow and rumbled out an indignant sound as he sat down in the bedside chair. ‘I am not some loth-cat you can simply tag like that, little one,’ he chided while tucking the covers back into place.</p><p>Luke nodded seriously. ‘Right, of course not, the sneaking up on me and playing with your kill have absolutely <em>nothing</em> reminiscent of cats. What was I even thinking?’ he deadpanned.</p><p>The air around them roiled as Vader visibly prepared himself to make a retort, only to find none. Luke let his mouth tilt up at the corners and raised an eyebrow at the silent man, soft, aborted sounds tumbling out of the vocoder haphazardly as the man tried to make a comeback, failing every time.</p><p>Eventually, Vader hunched his shoulders and Luke had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud as the air trembled under light consternation and begrudging concession. ‘I concede your point,’ the man mumbled out, before straightening up again. ‘I do, however, object to wearing a bell of any form. If you wish to cease being startled by my approach, I recommend learning how to detect me,’ he finished, amusement and a playful challenge drifting around them.</p><p>Luke narrowed his eyes as a slow grin of realization formed on his face. Oh, so <em>that</em> was the game that was being played here. Very well, he could work with that. ‘Alright then,’ he said lightly, grin sharpening, <em>‘Game on.’ </em></p><p>A thrill of delight shot silver bright through the air, Vader visibly straightening as his challenge was accepted wholeheartedly, excitement making itself known as Luke got the feeling that he’d be getting snuck up on a lot more often until he could reliably detect the man coming. A surprisingly difficult task despite how massive and conspicuous his mentor was.</p><p>Speaking of which…</p><p>‘How long have you been listening for?’ he asked quietly, sobering up as he recalled that he’d been in the middle of a song, or rather, near the end of one. How long had Vader been there for Luke's attempt? And maybe even more importantly— ‘Why are you here? Don’t you have work to do?’</p><p>‘It is the middle of the night little one, my shift ended a little while ago,’ Vader said drily, and Luke got the distinct impression of a raised eyebrow. ‘As for why,’ he continued, ‘You did send me a notification in the GMN not so long ago, Luke—’ Oh. Right. He had. ‘—And I came to see if there was anything I could do to remedy at least one of your issues.’</p><p>‘And how long have you been standing there?’ Luke asked, raising his own eyebrow at him. ‘Don’t think you can dodge that question now.’</p><p>Vader shifted, discomfort—presumably at being caught when he didn’t want to be, even if it hadn’t been intentional on Luke's part—filtering into the air. ‘Since… the First Runner’s fall into The Abyss,’ he admitted, and Luke's mind boggled at how long the man had been listening. That had to be ten minutes <em>at least.</em> ‘I… did not mean to remain unannounced for so long,’ Vader continued apologetically, ‘But it had been… far too long since I have been able to appreciate any music from the Desert. And when I realized you were playing the First Runner’s Flight I—’ he cut himself off, and stayed silent long enough that Luke wondered if he was expected to speak instead of expecting Vader to continue, but then—</p><p>‘…It was my favorite music piece when I was still a Child,’ the vocoder rumbled quietly, and Luke suddenly understood.</p><p>‘Mine too,’ he admitted quietly, and he was extremely pleased when a light gust of camaraderie and warmth brushed against the edges of his mind.</p><p>Vader regarded him for a moment, before pointedly averting his gaze as he looked down at the sheets, a hand reaching out to pluck the discarded pendant from between two folds of the cover. As Luke looked on, Vader picked up the small ceramic with a delicate touch, treating the fired and lacquered clay with all the caution of someone handling spun glass, lenses occasionally glancing back nervously towards Luke to gauge his reaction to Vader handling his instrument, only relaxing when Luke pointedly settled back into the pillows and simply watched with a smile.</p><p>Usually handling someone else’s instrument without explicit and clearly worded permission—especially if the instrument was linked to the roles that person chose—was offensive at best and a grave insult at worst. Instruments were precious in more than just the rare materials they were made of when they could afford to be. Setting aside the fact that they were used to make the music so sacred to the Children, they were also the tools to keep the community together and strong, tools for worship and even for communication with various entities if the user was particularly skilled. Not to mention that each instrument, from drums to flutes, was as unique as the person who played it, personal and special in ways more than just material. To mess with them was more than to just mess with someone else’s property.</p><p>Those were the rules for strangers and acquaintances though.</p><p>Vader was <em>Home</em><em>.</em></p><p>Just like his Aunt and Uncle were allowed to move his ocarina about if need be, and just like Luke and his Uncle were allowed to handle (and even learn to play, in Luke's case) Aunt Beru’s kalimba, Vader, as his Home, was more than welcome to examine his ocarina.</p><p>And judging by the manner in which the man seemed to be utterly fascinated with the little pendant that was nearly swallowed whole by his hand, Luke didn’t doubt that he would treat the instrument with the level of respect it deserved. A gloved thumb carefully ran over the stamped and painted seal on the instrument, seemingly utterly transfixed by the symbol of the Storm and the Runner’s wings subtly worked into the image.</p><p>He didn’t wonder if this was perhaps the first time since leaving Tatooine that the man had seen a proper instrument from the Desert again. The measure in which he spoke of music, the sheer joyous awe that ran through the air, the taste of memories on Luke's tongue that weren’t his own, and how reverently he held Luke's ocarina all spoke the words he doubted the man would be able to articulate.</p><p>At last, Vader seemed to have had his fill of examining the pendant from all sides and running the beads through his hand. He carefully dropped the instrument back into Luke's waiting hands, a hint of reluctance shimmering around him like a veil, and Luke wondered if he had been too young when he had been taken away from Tatooine to have his own rites, or even would have been able to choose an instrument if he <em>had</em> been able to get his rites. Luke knew he was lucky in that respect, after all. He was Freeborn, there had been no doubt as to whether or not he would be able to take a role that included an instrument as an essential part. But… Vader had been born a slave. Nothing was guaranteed as a slave, not even your next sunrise.</p><p>Especially not your next sunrise.</p><p>Twining the beaded leather back around his hands in the manner that had been taught to him was most secure for when playing, he rested his hands on the cover instead of immediately continuing to play, and he thought he almost sensed a flash of disappointment at that around him.</p><p>Chuckling softly at how, despite everything else, Vader was behaving very much like a Child at the moment, Luke watched as the man tilted his head in curiosity, now aimed at Luke.</p><p>‘I… must admit I did not think you would play the pendant ocarina, little one,’ he noted softly, curiously as he leaned forward slightly in his seat. ‘The bells or the drums, perhaps, maybe even something with strings, but… the ocarina, especially in this form, admittedly never crossed my mind.’</p><p>Luke laughed softly but nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, everyone back home was pretty surprised when I chose this, too. A more ceremonial instrument was definitely the expectation for me, but…’ he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I suppose even back then I never really expected to stay grounded for long,’ he divulged with a bit of a smile.</p><p>A flash of surprise and understanding washed over him, bright and dark and like the night sky and a million stars he’d dreamed of seeing. Grinning at the man, Luke was gratified to see Vader immediately nod knowingly. ‘A traveler’s instrument,’ he said softly, ‘Yes, I suppose that does make sense with how you fly.’</p><p>‘Exactly,’ Luke said with a chuckle. ‘I don’t think I could have ever chosen something that would be difficult to lug around or, Moons help me, something that had to be stationary or hidden within the Desert Herself.’ He shuddered theatrically, and grinned even wider when Vader rumbled out a burst of staticky laughter and nodded in agreement.</p><p>‘I can see your point, little one,’ he agreed easily, amusement coloring the monotone of the vocoder light and warm. ‘I may have never seen the bells of the Kashmi Ridge, or the drums of stone, but I doubt they would be particularly inclined to be transported in the snub fighters you seem to favor.’ As Vader finished, mischief gleamed in the air like morning dew during the rainy season.</p><p>Thinking back towards the massive, ornate bells that had been hung in the very mountains themselves, supports hewn out of the jagged, needle-like peaks of the Kashmi Ridge, Luke could only laugh and nod in agreement. Even setting aside the fact that the bells were old enough that no one, not even the Children’s oldest stories, could say for sure who had hung them, or that removing them would likely amount to sacrilege, the fact remained that each individual bell weighed several tons even at their smallest.</p><p>They were incredible, breathtaking sights to behold and hear, and the plateau around which they were clustered within the mountains was used by communities of Children from far and wide to welcome in newly Freed Siblings whenever possible. To hear them proclaim the Freedom of those gathered to the very Desert Herself would always stay with Luke.</p><p>But to become a bellringer himself? With all the responsibilities that would tie him to Tatooine as tight as one had to tie their purse in the city?</p><p>Give him the ocarina any day. Even if he did miss the spectacle of the great bells in action.</p><p>‘Maybe I could take you to them one day?’ Luke said, almost absently as he remembered the sensation feeling the soundwaves beating against his chest with every bell rung.</p><p>Vader's strangled sound shook him out of that reverie though, and he looked in confusion as a mess of emotions of emotions practically fell out of Vader. ‘The… sentiment is appreciated, little one,’ Vader rumbled hesitantly, ‘But I am neither a Child or welcome on Tatooine. I do not believe it would be a wise idea to—’</p><p>‘What do you mean “not welcome?”’ Luke blurted out. ‘You are my Home, you’d <em>always</em> be welcome.’</p><p>Vader stared at him silently and Luke got the impression of befuddled blinking while he stared right back. ‘I— well, yes,’ Vader agreed, clearly out of his depths and more than a little confused, ‘But, little one, I, as I am, am not welcome—’</p><p>‘Says who!?’ Luke challenged, righteous indignation welling up inside him as he thought of who might ban a Child, even a former one, from their own birth planet. ‘You are of Tatooine,’ he asserted firmly, unwilling to budge, ‘And even if you are no longer a Child, your <em>Mother</em> clearly was. <em>I</em> still am. I am your Home, and you are mine. That makes you welcome <em>by definition.’ </em></p><p>Vader seemed taken aback at Luke's sudden outburst but he was far too fired up to stop now. <em>Who</em> had thought they had the authority to ban a former Child from the planet on which their Mother rested? Who dared presume that their voice was enough to make Vader unwelcome on Tatooine, the Desert?</p><p>
  <em>Who dared?</em>
</p><p>‘I— Little one,’ Vader began gently, ‘It doesn’t quite work that way—’</p><p>‘Your Home is of the Desert,’ Luke shot back, voice hard as the rocks of the wastes that he called home. <em>‘You</em> were of the Desert. Your <em>Mother</em> was of the Desert. By all Laws of the Desert, you are <em>welcome.</em> Even if people would not want you there on principle of disliking the empire, they still couldn’t deny you the right to be welcome in the Desert,’ he asserted, before a thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes. ‘Unless you are talking about Hutt law,’ he said slowly, drawing each word out as he tasted the air around him for a reaction. ‘In which case; since when did you start counting the laws of the Masters as higher than that of the Desert?’</p><p>Vader stared at him, silent and stunned, his feelings blown wide open and vulnerable. Realization and revulsion warred inside him, and Luke noted with some concern that there was something black and toxic running throughout all of it, pulsing in thick and putrid veins through the gentle darkness of Vader's night. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to get an angle on what he seemed to be sensing, but between one moment and the next Vader had calmed down again and the strange things were drawn back out of Luke's sight.</p><p>‘When indeed?’ Vader murmured quietly to himself, looking nowhere in particular, it seemed, and Luke regarded the question. It almost sounded like his Home was realizing something about his own mindset and what it meant, and thinking back to the rancid attempts at undermining Vader the emperor had made not all that long and a lifetime ago, he wondered if he should attempt to press his advantage.</p><p>It could go wrong, but if he was careful, read the signs, and kept his cool, it could also go very, very right, and there were rarely opportunities to break or even weaken someone’s chain-blind mindset…</p><p>He could try. He could try and hope and pray that it would make any, even the slightest sliver of progress on Vader's chain-blindness. He could try.</p><p>Swallowing, Luke carefully weighed the words on his tongue. ‘I… know you invoked your Right,’ he began softly, and Vader's eyes immediately fell on him like a brick. ‘And I know you’re no longer a Child. But did you really distance yourself to the point that you would now allow the <em>Masters</em> to dictate who is and isn’t welcome on Tatooine? Within the Desert?’ he asked earnestly. ‘Did you really forget that much?’</p><p>Vader was silent for a long, long while. Emotions warred around them, boiling and burning through the air like a wild thing, cornered and trapped as it viciously bit into the air, into itself, into <em>Vader.</em> It was brutal, it was horrific, it was—</p><p>Enough.</p><p>‘Vader,’ he repeated sternly, the emotions abruptly flaring and falling silent as the entirety of Vader's focus turned to Luke. He breathed in a deep breath, and looked straight into the red lenses, imagining that he could see the eyes hidden behind. ‘Did you forget?’ he asked again, softly, gently.</p><p>There was another moment of silence, and Luke almost feared that the vicious snarling thing would reawaken but—</p><p>‘Yes,’ Vader responded in a voice so small he hadn’t known the vocoder capable of it. ‘Yes, I suppose I did.’</p><p>Luke smiled ever so slightly, softly, at the man as he got an idea. Picking up the ocarina again, he idly realigned his fingers with six of the holes in the instrument, idly tapping away at them as he spoke. ‘Well, now you remember, don’t you?’ he said quietly, trying not to break the man’s contemplation. This was progress. Great progress. ‘Of how we do not let the Masters dictate who we are.’ He tapped quietly against the lacquered ceramic with his fingernails and metal fingertips, a soft clinking sound dancing through the air. ‘Of how we are more than they ever wished us to be.’</p><p>Vader huffed out a small sound, but nodded. ‘Yes,’ he muttered, voice sounding like it came from far away and all too near, ‘I suppose I do.’ He shook his head. ‘Or am attempting to, anyway, little one.’</p><p>Luke grinned wide. ‘That’s alright,’ he said, toying with the pendant, ‘We have time. But think on it a little,’ he urged gently. ‘I am your Home, and you are mine. You will <em>always</em> be welcome. If you wanted to, we could definitely go to the bells of Kashmi someday in the future. Who knows?’ he muttered as he thumbed over the seal on his pendant, ‘You may not be a Child anymore, but your rite of Freedom is still something to consider. It would be sight to see, if nothing else,’ he finished quietly, smiling as he looked up at the man.</p><p>Vader, for his part, looked terribly lost. Not something that was altogether too surprising, if one took chainblindness into consideration. But there was something there, underneath all the turmoil and confusion. Something small and fragile. Something longing and hopeful.</p><p>‘I think,’ Vader murmured at last, voice as fragile as his hope, ‘That I— that I would like that, little one.’ The mask jolted as if trying to shake something off and when he spoke again his voice had found its footing again. ‘Not now, but… sometime, yes.’</p><p>‘Then let me know when it’s “sometime,” okay?’ Luke asked, a teasing lilt to his tone before dropping any form of jest in its entirety. ‘I’ll make plans for when you do,’ he promised, not exactly a Vow but… it felt as binding as one nonetheless.</p><p>‘The bells of Kashmi…’ Vader wondered quietly. ‘I must admit, I… did not think I would ever get the chance to see them. Not even when I was Freed.’</p><p><em>And didn’t that just say a million unspoken words about the state of his Freedom,</em> Luke thought. Any Freed, even a child, should at the very least be able to dream of their rites being held at the heart of the Kashmi Ridge. It wasn’t essential to Freedom—nothing was beyond the very act of being Free—but it was still… important. Precious.</p><p>It was the openness of one’s culture and community, the thrill of journeying so far when previously one might not even have been allowed beyond a fence, the wonder of open skies and mountain peaks and an oasis hidden within the earth itself. It was a part of the Flightpaths as much as the actual Flight within the Jundland Wastes. And he knew for a fact that in other places on Tatooine, there were similar sacred sites where Children could perform their rites of Freedom. He had wanted to see all of those as well, visit every place that brought such joy to his Siblings. Maybe one day.</p><p>For now, making the journey towards the bells of Kashmi with Vader seemed like a far-off dream.</p><p>‘Well, I’ll definitely have to take you one day then,’ Luke noted happily, ‘Someday.’</p><p>‘Yes,’ Vader agreed, something odd in his voice. ‘Someday.’</p><p>‘In the meantime,’ Luke said, drawing Vader's attention back to the present from wherever it had wandered off to, ‘Would you mind if I finished the First Runner’s Flight?’ He held up the pendant with a meaningful look.</p><p>Surprise cut through the air like a shooting star and Luke had to admit that there was something gratifying in the way Vader's lenses immediately tilted down to the pendant he was holding before back up again. ‘The Path of Stars?’ he asked, surprise and just a hint of awe coloring the monotone of the vocoder.</p><p>Luke laughed silently and nodded, glad to see that even if his Home had forgotten much, he hadn’t forgotten music. ‘Yes, the song was going well enough that I thought I might as well see if I could make my new fingers cooperate well enough to play the fourth movement as well,’ he said as he tapped the metal edges of the fingers in question to the side of the pendant, giddiness setting in once more as he remembered just how, even while playing The Coming of Storms, his prosthetic fingers had never seemed slower or more unwieldy than his organic ones, reacting just as smoothly and swiftly even as he pushed his own limits with what he could perform even before losing a hand, his prosthesis nearly singing in a way Luke didn’t quite understand the harder he pushed it. The Path of Stars was nothing to scoff at, and he may fail miserably, but he’d never know if he didn’t try, right?</p><p>Vader, for his part, was radiating a hesitant sort of excitement that had Luke grinning in return. ‘I must admit, I did not think that the First Runner’s Flight could be played on a pendant,’ he said wonderingly, clearly eyeing Luke's instrument with curiosity as he settled into his chair. ‘Let alone The Path of Stars.’</p><p>‘Well,’ Luke said with a grin, tapping out the main riff of the movement without playing it just yet, refamiliarizing himself with the complex lacework of notes, ‘I never did do well with limits and boundaries. It’s why I looked towards the sky for my adventure.’</p><p>Vader chuckled quietly. ‘Then you and I may be more alike than anticipated, little one,’ he returned to Luke's surprised look, ‘I remember dreaming of seeing every star in the sky—’</p><p>‘—And visiting them all,’ Luke completed, voice a touch breathless as a slow smile of recognition blooming over his face. ‘Just like—’</p><p>‘—the First Runner ran between the stars,’ they finished together, and for a moment, just a moment, Luke swore he could see the night sky shine around them as their voices fell into perfect sync. They stared at each other for a moment, and Luke could feel the shared recognition, the familiarity, the kinship, warm him up inside like he’d just eaten an entire bowl of one of Aunt Beru’s stews.</p><p>He wasn’t alone in this.</p><p>Somewhere on Tatooine, decades ago, the person Vader had been back then had looked to the stars and dreamed the exact same dream Luke did.</p><p>He wasn’t alone. Even then, <em>he wasn’t alone.</em></p><p>‘More alike than anticipated indeed,’ Vader repeated, and there was a breathless quality to his speech that didn’t translate well through the vocoder, but that the mirror image of all the emotions Luke was feeling translated better than anything.</p><p>Vader had dreamt of the stars too, all those years ago. Of walking between them, just to… <em>be</em> there, with no goal in mind.</p><p>So many people he’d met over the years had dreamt of the sky too, but they’d dreamt of escape, of leaving for a goal, of <em>going</em> somewhere. But Luke? Luke had just… wanted to fly between the stars for the sake of it. Explore and fly through the deepest recesses of space with no rhyme or reason, but simply to <em>be there,</em> adrift amongst the endless void and twinkling lights. Something just felt <em>right</em> about that.</p><p>And he couldn’t pinpoint why, but something… something told him that Vader had felt that pull too. That <em>draw</em>.</p><p>Like it was where they were meant to be. The most natural thing in existence.</p><p>‘Star Dreamers,’ he muttered quietly, still staring into the red lenses with a disbelieving grin as he recognized himself as if staring in a mirror. ‘Star Dreamers, the both of us.’</p><p>Vader nodded quietly. ‘Fated,’ he murmured, nearly inaudible. ‘It was fated.’</p><p>Luke laughed almost soundlessly. ‘It certainly seems like it, hm?’ he muttered just as softly, face hurting from beaming so brightly and Luke couldn’t care the slightest bit. ‘How many stars have you seen so far?’ he asked in a breath, unwilling to risk breaking this precious, shining moment that he felt like he’d been waiting for his whole life.</p><p>‘More than you could have dreamed of, little star,’ Vader responded, and there was something heavy to that response, a weight of history that Luke didn’t know and perhaps would never know. ‘More than you could dream of.’</p><p>Luke huffed out a soft breath, smile still not abating as he tried to imagine every star that Vader must’ve seen over the course of his life. ‘It seems I have a lot of catching up to do then,’ he mused, idly tapping out the riff on his pendant one more time. ‘Because I want to see them all.’</p><p>Vader laughed quietly in a clatter of static, the air around him laughing with him as it sparked to life with fondness, recognition, and a fragile hope for the future. ‘If you would permit me,’ he muttered softly, ‘I would show you every last one of them. Those I have seen, and all the ones still waiting out there.’</p><p>‘It’s a deal,’ Luke agreed brightly, warmth and joy misty as it rose through the air on the thermals of memories and hope. ‘Now then,’ he said, finishing tapping out the riff for the last time and holding up the pendant with a smile, ‘The Path of Stars?’</p><p>‘If you would be so kind,’ Vader agreed, sitting back while anticipation shimmered in the air. ‘I would love to hear it once more.’</p><p>Without any further words and the flash of a smile, Luke took in a slow, deep breath, and blew out the first, trilling notes of the last movement of the First Runner’s Flight, high and alert as they entered the slave quarters, the Master still far out in the sand of the Dune Sea, trailing back from their unsuccessful hunt.</p><p>With grace notes and switching octaves, he added voice after voice as the First Runner passed through the quarters, gathering Siblings by the dozens as they went, until, at last, a thousand voices joined the chorus of the song.</p><p>Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to do the thousand voices of the chorus like the one time, and only one time, he had heard it performed at the bells during one of the largest Freedom rites he had ever seen. Forty-three Siblings had joined them in Freedom that day—Luke having personally run eight of them through their Flight—and nearly every runner and Child in the Jundland Wastes had been in attendance, instruments in tow to welcome the Freed in. The First Runner’s Flight had rung out through the mountains like never before, all celebrating the joyous return of their Siblings to Freedom with music, dance, and song.</p><p>It had been a day to remember.</p><p>And while he would never be able to replicate the thousand voices of the chorus like he’d heard them that day on his own, he could still strive to try. And try he did.</p><p>His fingers flew as they tapped, pressed, and teased out the notes from his ocarina, pushing the very limits of what his little instrument was capable of as the First Runner gathered round all their Siblings, urging them to move faster and swifter before the Master came back, and then, with a thousand souls around them, they called on the Storm.</p><p>And the Storm answered.</p><p>A high, piercing note in conjunction with the deepest one his instrument could make heralded the arrival of the great Sandstorm of the Desert. Keshtra, in all its glory, had arrived.</p><p>And a whirlwind of notes, octaves, and impossible jumps in pitch marked the moment when a thousand and one Siblings were raised up into the sky, beyond the clouds, beyond the blue, and into the embrace of the stars. The soaring riff of The Path of Stars jumped in with the thousand voices as the Children walked the skies for the very first time, towards Freedom, their bodies discarding the loads and burdens they’d carried for so long until they were as light as the stars themselves.</p><p>Light, brilliant, and shining out from the sky in a trail where they were still running to this day, Free and Eternal, following their Runner between the Moons and across the night, the brightest star of them all that every Child knew the Name of.</p><p>The Skywalker.</p><p>And with every note that told the story, soaring, tumbling, and as Free as any star, Luke could feel the quiet awe and joy from his side, Vader silently listening to one of the first stories any Child was told as soon as their eyes could see the stars.</p><p>And with every breath he drew, the air tasted of memories, and the moments they spent gazing at the sky with a shared dream, separated only by time.</p><p>Two Star Dreamers, finding that all this time they weren’t alone, at long last.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
<ol>
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<a id="note20" name="note20"></a>[20] <em>Jareshka:</em> A sacred substance created by mixing together earth or sand, water, and some of the mixer’s blood in a japor wooden bowl. It is used for ritualistic application of markings upon either the mixer, or another participant within the ritual. Applied in various patterns over the face and body, jareshka has the ritualistic purpose of visualizing and confirming a role to the person it is applied to. In other words; what jareshka paints you, you become. <sup><a href="#back20">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...And scene. </p><p>Well then, that went spectacular, didn't it? I hope you all had as much of a blast as I did, and I'll see you all again next Sunday. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Life Will Seem Impossible</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone's favorite Admiral is back in action, and, as any good superior, aims to introduce himself to the person who got him that promotion in that capacity. Unfortunately, as he soon finds out, just because Luke is bed bound, doesn't mean he isn't wreaking havoc on Piett's sanity.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ladies, Gents, and Honors, let's go, let's roll, let's get this show on the road! </p><p><i>I'm</i> feeling fantastic! I hope <i>you</i> are feeling fantastic! And I hope that if not, this chapter can at least make for some lightness in your day. Without further ado, let's get this going!</p><p> </p><p>  <b>The Trigger List:</b></p><ol>
  <li>Mentions of Murder, Infection, and Biting</li>
</ol></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Firmus Piett honestly didn’t know why he was doing this, he really didn’t.</p><p>There was work to be done, and as the newly minted Admiral of the Lady and only five days into his new career, “work” meant “dear Force, make sure that the whole ship doesn’t implode.” This was partially made easier by the fact that there was either no one left to undermine his authority because of his origins with the resolve to speak up, or no one left <em>period</em>. He wasn’t quite sure which of those he preferred, but thankfully he didn’t need to have a preference as it wouldn’t change reality either way.</p><p>His endeavor of keeping the Lady and her crew in shape was complicated, unfortunately, by the fact that they were short one miracle-working Engineer who could soothe the frayed nerves of the crew and Officers alike with his mere presence preferably next to Lord Vader.</p><p>Even with his little experimental theory that surviving under Lord Vader could be a deceptively simple endeavor, the last few days had been a terror. Lord Vader's massacre of the traitors in the hangar had, quite unfortunately, been caught on camera by several individuals and rapidly disseminated throughout the on-board population of the Lady. The silver lining of the situation was that, thankfully, the block on communications had still been active, meaning that it hadn’t been leaked onto the holonet.</p><p>While orders had been given to swiftly dispose of all such recordings or else risk disciplinary action with the unofficial threat of catching Lord Vader's attention while he was still in an unfortunate mood, Piett still dreaded the person foolhardy or suicidal enough to post the footage online anyway once the block was lifted. He’d seen most of the videos that had done their circulation, and while something about what Lord Vader had done seemed to corrupt large parts of the footage regardless of what it was filmed on, it still captured the mass execution—and particularly Ozzel’s—in gruesome and visceral detail.</p><p>Within hours, everyone aboard the Lady had known that, if so inclined and truly angered beyond rational, Lord Vader could, <em>and would,</em> do so much worse than the ever-dreaded strangulation. To see multiple men be forced to vomit up their own internal organs, crushed and torn open, and broken in a most literal sense as well as being, for lack of better term, <em>melted</em> for their treason had put enough people into a state of hysterics and paranoia that the general atmosphere aboard the Lady could be described as “tense to the point of snapping.”</p><p>However, as Lord Vader had spent much of the following days either making his way through much of the paperwork needed after the execution of fourteen men as well as their treason, working within Lars’ workshop on… something, and in the company of Lars himself, the tense atmosphere had somewhat abated. The fact that Lord Vader seemed ill-inclined to exercise more of this terrifying newly revealed extent of powers calmed most of the Crewmates, and the gossip tidbits that he was spending plenty of time with Lars while the young man recovered from his injuries calmed the rest.</p><p>As much as the whole fiasco had revealed terrifying new facts about the dark specter that haunted the hallways of the Lady, Piett was grateful to see that the faith in Lars’ abilities seemed to have only grown as the days passed onwards. Setting aside the horrifying revelation that none of them, not even Admiral Montferrat as he’d admitted in his replies to Piett's messages, had ever seen Lord Vader this <em>enraged</em> before the incident a few days ago, Lord Vader had calmed down remarkably fast after the ordeal was over. This chain of events led to the absolutely mindboggling conclusion that while Lord Vader's rage, his <em>true</em> rage, was hard to rouse and devastating once awakened, it was easily placated after the offenders were disposed of.</p><p>Or at least, it appeared that way.</p><p>Piett knew that there was one glaring variable in this whole equation that threw everything off and made him question every conclusion he reached: Luke Lars.</p><p>As long as the young man was exercising his influence over Lord Vader, there was no telling what his Lordship's “unmodified” behavior would have been. As it stood, he hardly considered that as a detrimental thing, and quite frankly, he hoped that he never again would have to concern himself with Lord Vader's “unmodified” behavior for as long as he served. Lars was young and clearly not going anywhere any time soon. With a bit of luck, Piett would actually live to see his retirement.</p><p>That is what Piett told himself while walking though the medical wing’s halls on the first day that Lars had been cleared to receive visitors. He also told himself that he was solely interested in assessing the status of one of his ship’s most valuable crew members, and that this visit had nothing to do with his own emotional attachments to the young man. Nothing at all.</p><p>Furthermore, he was most certainly <em>not</em> taking advantage of the fact that he was one of the few people privy to Lord Vader's general schedule and was consequently able to pick a time to avoid the dark Lord and easily converse with the young man. Not to mention that he was <em>not</em> making use of the fact that nearly everyone else would be visiting during scheduled breaks and at the ends of shifts. Absolutely not.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>He’d always been a poor liar towards himself.</p><p>Matter of fact was, Lord Vader was far from the only one charmed by Lars’ demeanor. Multiple pleasant conversations with the young man on various topics ranging from the everyday grind of the ship, to their shared outer rim origins and the cultures they called their own, to how to best draft a professional but scathingly caustic message towards any annoyances had cemented Lars firmly on Piett's “positive acquaintances” list and even tentatively placed the young man in the short list of people Piett counted as true friends.</p><p>And while Piett didn’t doubt that there were many, many people who would rather have—and most likely be more deserving of—the visitor’s slot Piett was aiming to occupy, the fact remained that one of the perks of being the second formally-highest-ranking Officer aboard left him the small luxury of being able to shift the time for his break on his shift to one where he would be able to visit Lars alone.</p><p>The aforementioned break was why he found himself stepping out of the elevators into the medical wing’s lobby and making his way over to the receptionist’s desk.</p><p>The same man from his last visit to the looked up from his screen as he approached and raised one, perfectly bored eyebrow. ‘Admiral Piett,’ he said flatly, ‘Congratulations on the promotion. I take it it’s Lars you’re here for?’</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he returned, equally flat, and for a moment the man’s eyes seemed to gain the slightest light of approval. ‘And yes, it is.’</p><p>‘Well, you probably remember the way, sir,’ the receptionist noted as he ticked something off on his monitor. ‘Good luck.’</p><p>With that, Piett didn’t quite know how, the man almost visibly seemed to become unresponsive, and he decided not to test his welcome any further.</p><p>Heading towards the large, arching entrance way, Piett couldn’t help but note with some wry amusement that the man hadn’t been wrong. He really <em>did</em> remember the way. With all that had happened the day he’d first walked it, he doubted he would ever forget it.</p><p>Piett walked through the hallways and past several of the other wards, turning the last corner towards the recovery ward where Lars was located only to note with some amusement that even if he hadn’t known which ward Lars was in, he surely would have been able to deduce it by virtue of it being the only ward entrance flanked by two Stormtrooper guards in full SUTA armor with rifles at ready.</p><p>The second he turned the corner, the two visors had snapped over towards him and it took a not insignificant amount of his training to remain unintimidated by the manner in which both Troopers tracked him the entire time he approached, rifles held in a position that could easily be mistaken for relaxed by anyone unfamiliar with weapons training.</p><p>‘Admiral,’ one of the Troopers greeted, forgoing any kind of salute in favor of keeping both hands on his weapon. ‘You’ll have to excuse us, sir, but are your intentions to visit the <em>Goran?’</em></p><p><em>Goran</em>. That word again. Remembering the rundown he’d been given not too long ago regarding the sheer weight behind that word, Piett very carefully didn’t think about how these men were absolutely willing to shoot him on sight if Lars ordered it and succeeded marginally in that aspect. ‘They are,’ he instead stated, keeping steady eye contact with the implacable vizor, not offering any further elaboration.</p><p>The Trooper held his gaze for a long moment, before nodding and straightening up even further, towering over Piett. ‘Very well, sir,’ he agreed, and Piett felt like he'd passed some kind of test, ‘I will notify the Armorer of your intent and ask if he’s willing to have a visitor. If he’s not, however, I must ask that you please leave.’</p><p>‘Naturally,’ he agreed with a dip of his head, carefully not thinking about how this whole occurrence was treating Lars as the definitive higher rank in all this. They were clearly well beyond that, and it had never done anyone any good to deny reality as it was happening in front of them. Besides, he wasn’t certain that with the manner in which Lord Vader was, quite clearly, doting on the young man akin to how a parent would, Lars wouldn’t soon <em>formally</em> possess a higher rank, as well. Piett found that he hardly minded that thought as much as he once might have.</p><p>The Trooper stepped inside and the other once more took up a silent guarding position, scanning the hallway in a manner that didn’t fool Piett for one moment. He’d spent too much time on the Lady to believe that there wasn’t a sharp eye being kept on him at all times.</p><p>The Trooper’s head abruptly jerked towards the end of the hallway Piett had just come from, the sound of footsteps coming up to greet him not a moment later. Turning his head just enough to see who the Trooper was keeping such a sharp eye on, Piett refused to feel any kind of surprise when the familiar army greys of one General Veers stepped around the corner. Of course.</p><p>Veers, for his part, blinked for a moment when he saw Piett, but didn’t even bother to slow down for a moment as he approached the recovery ward with long strides. ‘Firmus,’ he greeted easily with a nod, before turning his gaze to the Trooper. ‘Sergeant Volt.’</p><p>Ah, so that was the Trooper’s name.</p><p>Volt, for his part, nodded once but didn’t budge from his at-ready stance. ‘Sir,’ he returned.</p><p>Piett noted with interest that Veers couldn’t stop himself from eyeing the way the Trooper held the weapon either, even as he made no comment on it. Apparently, this was as unusual behavior to him, as it was to Piett. That… wasn’t exactly reassuring, but also not entirely unexpected.</p><p>‘Max,’ he greeted back, hoping to ease the minor pang of tension just a little as the Trooper clearly sized up the both of them, preparing for a fight if need be. Piett would almost find it offensive if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was common knowledge that the conspiracy against Lars had been almost entirely comprised of high-ranking personnel. As much as he hated to say it, this had been far from the first suspicious look he’d been given these last few days, from both Troopers and Crewmates alike. He hadn’t thought that Lars’ approval ratings were quite this high, but getting a narrow look from even the waiter when the dinner conversation in the Officers’ lounge had turned towards the conspiracy had certainly opened his eyes to the matter.</p><p>To say nothing of the Troopers and Engineers, Piett had never been as closely scrutinized by such a wide variety of personnel—ranging from Cooks, Clerks, and gunnery Officers to Pilots, Quartermasters, and Medics—with this amount of suspicion over such a short length of time. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew basically every Officer was in the same boat as he was, he would’ve thought that he’d already screwed up only a couple of days into his career as Admiral.</p><p>Seeing Veers get scrutinized by one of his own men neatly killed any remnants of that idea that he may have had.</p><p>‘Had the same idea, I see,’ Veers commented idly, as if he hadn’t just blatantly been sized up by Sergeant Volt for the eventuality of a fight. ‘You here to see the kid too?’</p><p>He inclined his head towards Veers as he carefully folded his hands behind his back. ‘It seemed in good form to check in on the Head Engineer after my rather abrupt promotion,’ he informed Veers primly. ‘At the very least to introduce myself in my new capacity.’</p><p>Veers raised an eyebrow towards him and nodded slowly. ‘Uh huh,’ he hummed, ‘And this has nothing to do with your liking of the kid, hm?’</p><p>Piett shot his friend a frosty look that flawlessly spelled out the request to shut up or experience bodily harm, but in the face of losing it with whatever answer he gave, he wisely kept his mouth shut. Thankfully, the door to the recovery ward clicked from its lock and opened soon enough to not force his silence into an awkward one.</p><p>The other Trooper stepped out, the sound of chatter filtering out behind him as he did so, only to pause when he caught sight of Veers now standing next to Piett. ‘Sir,’ the Trooper said evenly, even as something tensed in his frame.</p><p>‘Sergeant Slice,’ Veers returned just as evenly. ‘I take it I am to state my intent to visit here?’</p><p>‘Very much so, sir,’ the Trooper answered without a single inflection in his tone. ‘We—’</p><p>‘Slice, are you going to let the Admiral through or not?’ a voice suddenly called out from within the recovery ward, and Piett's shoulders slumped slightly as he could feel the tension leak out of the air with every word Lars spoke.</p><p>Sergeant Slice, for his part, partially turned back and responded to the call. ‘I would, sir, but General Veers has come for a visit as well. Should I block him?’</p><p>‘Suns and fucking sand…’ Piett heard muttered from within the room, almost too low to hear. ‘It’s <em>fine</em>, Slice,’ Lars called back, ‘For the love of the stars, just let them both through! They’re friendlies!’</p><p>With those words, the last of the tension slipped away, though Piett noted that its ghost still lingered as the Sergeant turned back towards them. ‘You are both cleared to enter,’ he told them flatly and somewhat needlessly. ‘I advise that you act wiser than your ex-colleagues did, though. Lord Vader won’t condemn us for any action we take if you don’t, sirs.’</p><p>Message received. ‘Duly noted, Sergeant,’ Piett agreed evenly.</p><p>Threat delivered and vetting complete, Sergeant Slice stepped aside and back into his guard post, leaving the doorway free for Piett and Veers to pass through. Unwilling to test the patience of the two Troopers, one of whom had just made an oblique death threat that he didn’t doubt was completely genuine, Piett promptly stepped into the ward beyond, with Veers right on his heels.</p><p>Turning the corner into the room, Piett was once more greeted by the sight of Lars reclining in the same bed as he had last time, though thankfully, this time around there wasn’t the presence of a certain dark Lord to contend with, and neither was Lars asleep. Unfortunately, there <em>were</em> two other Troopers in fully equipped SUTA armor present, one sitting at the foot of Lars’ bed scrolling through a datapad, and one leaning idly against the bedpost with their arms crossed, their lack of helmets resulting in their easy identification as clones, as well as highly suspicious of both him and Veers, even as they lacked the hostility of the guards outside.</p><p>None of that mattered in the face of Lars’ bright, beaming smile and enthusiastic wave as he has reclined against a pile of pillows and with a datapad in his lap. ‘Admiral Piett, General Veers,’ he greeted happily, ‘What a pleasant surprise!’</p><p>Veers chuckled deeply at the young man’s enthusiasm and Piett could feel himself echoing the sentiment as well. ‘Hey, kid,’ the man greeted back. ‘Thought I’d go see how the resident troublemaker was doing. Not sure what Firmus' excuse is though,’ he finished, smirking as Piett glared at him.</p><p>Rolling his eyes at his friend, Piett discarded Veers’ ribbing as unimportant, instead focusing on the curious look Lars was giving him. ‘I figured it would be good form to check up on the resident Head Engineer,’ Piett said evenly before dropping just a bit of his professional demeanor when Lars’ eyes gained a particular kind of understanding and gave Piett a look that he could feel going straight through him. ‘And perhaps I was also intending to check up on a friend,’ he admitted a bit softer, smiling in return when Lars beamed wide.</p><p>‘Well, it’s much appreciated. Come, take a seat,’ Lars replied happily while gesturing over to the various beds and spaces around his bed. Gesturing with a hand very much <em>not</em> organic, Piett noted with more than a bit of curiosity. How long had the young man had a prosthesis? And what even was this prosthesis? He’d never seen <em>anything</em> like it.</p><p>Walking over to approximately where Lars had gestured while giving the wary clones a bit of a berth, Piett took note of the fact that all manner of items seemed to have accumulated around the young man’s sick bed. A datapad and comm unit, a small stack of decorated papers that Piett suspected were get-well cards, a smattering of tools and bits and bobs of metal, a strange, glossy black pendant on a string of colorful beads, a multitude of packaged snacks that had small, colorful notes stuck to them piled high on the nightstand, a bouquet of what looked like they were supposed to be flowers made out of metal shavings, and a variety of data sticks each labeled in a different color. Seeing him look over all the clutter that had accumulated around the sick bed, Lars sheepishly smiled and rubbed the back of his head.</p><p>‘Gifts from friends,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘Gifts and a couple of work-related things so I could stay up to date and a couple of personal belongings to keep me occupied.’</p><p>Veers whistled lowly as he surveyed the bounty present. ‘Damn,’ he muttered, ‘I knew you were popular but this is a whole different level. I didn’t even think the cooks knew <em>how</em> to give out extra dessert rations.’</p><p>Lars flushed darkly at the words, and, taking a closer look at the pile of snacks and food present, Piett could indeed see a couple of the distinct and much coveted packages of dessert rations. The good ones too, if he wasn’t mistaken and the quality of the various rations hadn’t fluctuated too much from the time when he primarily survived on them.</p><p>‘They’re… not all from the cooks,’ Lars mumbled, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. ‘I told them I couldn’t possibly eat them all but—’</p><p>‘But they were disinclined to listen?’ Piett guessed idly, even as he had no idea who “they” were. “They” could be anyone from a random Crewmate to the very Troopers standing beside him right this moment.</p><p>‘Pretty much,’ Lars confirmed begrudgingly. ‘I even told them to take some themselves and eat them with me, but no dice,’ he grumbled, glaring sideways at the small mountain of food like it had done him wrong. ‘Now it’s just sitting there, doing nothing.’</p><p>If Piett had been any further removed from the Troopers, he might not have heard the soft snort from one of them. Discretely glancing over to where they were situated, Piett noted that they were looking with more than a little endeared amusement at the young Engineer. Perhaps a little too much so.</p><p>Chancing a glance towards where Veers was teasingly ribbing the young man over his supposed popularity while Lars reddened in complexion like he was being steamed and occasionally snapping back a quick-witted retort, Piett subtly shuffled over towards the clones.</p><p>‘Care to explain what is so amusing about Engineer Lars’ statement, gentlemen?’ he asked below his breath, taking care not to be too conspicuous. One of them snorted quietly, and leaned in just a bit as he lowered his voice.</p><p>‘Don’t tell the <em>Goran,</em> sir,’ the Trooper muttered lowly, ‘But those aren’t gifts. Or at least, not <em>just</em> gifts.’</p><p>Eyeing the fairly sizable amount of packaged food, cards, data sticks, and other knickknacks on Lars’ nightstand, Piett could only raise an eyebrow. ‘If they aren’t gifts, what are they then, Trooper?’ he whispered back, taking care to keep his voice low. ‘They seem to be gifts to me, and I doubt anyone would be so foolish to make something malicious out of them after what Lord Vader did not so long ago.’</p><p>The man snorted almost too loud, and Piett had to quickly glance over to where Veers and Lars were no animatedly discussing the particulars of something or other, Lars repeatedly gesturing towards Veers’ comm unit and saying things like “memes” and various acronyms that meant nothing to Piett, but that Veers was listening attentively to as he looked down at his comm with a serious expression. More decoding of Zevulon’s communications with his father then.</p><p>Relaxing slightly, he turned his attention back to the Trooper just in time to hear the man speak. ‘It’s Boomer, sir, Sergeant Boomer,’ the man— Boomer, notified him quietly, ‘And they’re not gifts, sir, because they’re more than that.’ Jerking his chin towards the small pile of food, his expression took on an odd, ancient quality. ‘Those? Those are offerings. Prayers and payments for a bit of protection and luck from all manner of Crewmates and squads. I’d say about half is of the regular crew by volume, but the better stuff was offered mostly by the Pilots and Engineers.’</p><p>Piett blinked as those words sunk in. <em>Offerings?</em></p><p>‘You’re going to have to explain that to me in greater detail, Sergeant,’ he muttered, ‘Because that sounds a lot like you’re implying that people <em>worship</em> Engineer Lars.’</p><p>Boomer huffed out a laugh. ‘That’s because I am, sir,’ he retorted. ‘Nothing fancy, mind you. Just a bit of superstition and leaps in logic here and there. Sir has been known to have an extraordinarily good memory when it comes to names and people and such, so the hope is that a small token with a well wish and your name on it will get you remembered well enough that if you’re ever between a rock and a hard place and can’t wriggle out, he’ll lend you a bit of his compassion and help you out.’ Boomer laughed quietly as he took in Piett's baffled face. ‘Really though, sir, there’s nothing much behind it besides something to ease the nerves of the last few days, that’s all.’</p><p>For some reason, Piett very heavily doubted it. This— this wasn’t something just easily waved away as “nothing much.” This was the beginning of the same thing Piett knew the Stormtroopers did with Lord Vader. He may be a navy man, but he wasn’t blind to the blatant worship that was rumored to occur amongst the Stormtrooper Corps of the black specter that was Lord Vader. And he couldn’t even <em>blame</em> them for it! Lord Vader, for all that Piett had seen him bleed and care and soften over the last few days, still defied his understanding on every basic level.</p><p>Even before this whole fiasco that had thrown Piett's understanding of his Lordship's powers into complete disarray, he’d still seen the man as something… more than either the theory of human or droid could provide a decent explanation for. The dark Lord was an enigma and a mystery and every time Piett learned something new about him, it only seemed to blur the line more of what he actually was. It wasn’t hard to see why the Stormtroopers, the ones hitting the battlefield alongside Lord Vader and likely witnessing the brunt of his display of powers, worshipped the man as an avatar of death and victory. Not hard to see at all.</p><p>What Piett didn’t like, however, was the implication that enough people had seen… <em>something</em> in Lars that he was now receiving a similar treatment. Especially not since he couldn’t honestly say that <em>he</em> didn’t see it too.</p><p>And the young man was still entirely oblivious to it.</p><p>Piett breathed in, took two seconds, and breathed out again.</p><p>Okay. So Lars was now steadily gaining a cult following, apparently. Would, or <em>could,</em> Piett even do anything about that?</p><p>On the one hand, if he didn’t stop this now, there would be absolutely <em>no</em> stopping it later on, if it wasn’t too late to stop it already. Especially since he, like every other Officer above a certain rank at the moment, was very much on the collective bad side of the crew of the Lady until such a time that he was cleared of suspicions in the court of public opinion.</p><p>On the other hand, he was very much unwilling to put himself between said court of public opinion and the person they had chosen as their patron and get shredded to pieces in the process. A process that he, for some Force forsaken reason, very much doubted Lord Vader would be willing to put a stop to. In fact, the only one he could think of with the sway needed aboard the Lady to call off the one-point-two <em>million</em> strong crew should he get in between them and their patron, would be said patron himself. And it <em>really</em> didn’t speak well for your options when your only chance of salvation was praying to the very person who you were trying to <em>prevent</em> the deification of.</p><p>All in all, Piett was finding that being the Admiral of the largest ship in the galaxy was a lot more like governing a small nation, and a lot less like running a military operation. In theory he was in charge, and with enough sway and respect he truly was as well. But he was only one man, and if even just half the Lady’s crew decided they wanted him dead… well, he was just <em>one man. </em></p><p>He sighed. He was beginning to see why there was a separation in government and religion in the Empire. This was honestly <em>insane.</em></p><p>Well, at least now he knew that he most definitely was a solid rung or two—if not more—under Lars within the Lady’s food chain. Thankfully, it was a more pleasant place to be in than a similar space under Ozzel in matters of military and social orders. Lars didn’t attempt to pin his own mistakes on him, for one. He also pulled his own weight many times over, for another.</p><p>Two seconds, and the world spun on.</p><p>Piett sighed one last time as he pulled himself back out of his own mind. ‘Right,’ he muttered to the Sergeant who was looking at him with a highly amused expression, ‘Right, Engineer Lars has begun the process of deification and is utterly oblivious to said process. He is also receiving offerings from his worshippers under the guise of get-well gifts and has no idea of that either,’ he summed up flatly. ‘Did I miss anything, or am I on the spot, Sergeant?’</p><p>‘Aside from the fact that much of the offerings truly <em>are</em> just get-well gifts as well?’ the Trooper replied with some amusement. ‘Not really. It seems like you got it, sir.’ Piett made a soft, despairing, undignified sound, and glared at Sergeant Boomer when the man bit his lip to prevent from laughing. ‘Really though, sir,’ the clone continued on quietly, ‘You didn’t see this coming? The Lady’s Sun? You really didn't?’</p><p>‘Frankly, Sergeant,’ Piett muttered as he looked back on all the signs, ‘I suppose I’d hoped I hadn’t.’ Lord Vader was one thing, but Lars? Lars gaining this amount of “offerings” in desserts and fruit packs and data sticks in the couple of hours since visitors had first been allowed?</p><p>That spoke of something more than just a mere superstition as far as Piett was concerned. That spoke of something he wanted to take exactly <em>no</em> responsibility for dealing with.</p><p>Sergeant Boomer, for his part, merely snickered at Piett's silent despair and went back to watching the young Engineer explain to a bewildered Veers just what, exactly, “yeet” meant, and why it likely was a bad thing to see it in conjunction with how much one of Zevulon’s fellow students got on his nerves. Apparently, it meant that the young man was liable to defenestrate the student in question sometime in the near future, but only in a half-joking manner.</p><p>Piett had never been so glad that he hadn’t signed up for cryptography training.</p><p>‘—And so my suggestion would be to tell him to stick it out for just a few more weeks,’ Lars finished, gesturing towards the comm’s screen with a gleaming, bone-white finger that reflected light off of the polished brass joints. ‘He’s almost out of the academy, he can handle a jackass making his life sour for just a bit longer without flying off the handle. But be sarcastic about it, to show you got the joke.’</p><p>‘Don’t think that’s gonna work, kid,’ Veers said as he rubbed his chin with a sigh. ‘Zev knows you’re helping me out on these and likes to remind me of that fact, so acting like I got the joke will backfire spectacularly.’</p><p>Lars rolled his eyes and waved a hand carelessly. ‘So, say you <em>figured out</em> the joke, sir. Really just try to relate with him over those moments where you could drive a spike into someone’s neck over the bullshit they pulled and you’ll be fine. Emotions cross language barriers, and I find that homicidal thoughts are universally understood,’ he said blithely, and ah, yes, Piett supposed he now got the gist of it.</p><p>Veers, on the other hand, blinked in bewilderment at the young man. ‘Pardon?’</p><p>This time Piett was very much empathizing with the exasperate look Lars shot Veers’ way. ‘C’mon, sir,’ the Engineer implored with a patient tone, ‘Homicidal thoughts. The one’s you have when you’re about three seconds away from pulling a knife on some Hutt crony who’s about to sell you out. We’ve all had them.’ And perhaps it was unprofessional, but Piett nodded along with every word the young man said as he remembered his own instances. Something that was quickly picked up on by Lars. ‘See?’ he said with a gesture towards Piett, ‘The Admiral gets it.’</p><p>Veers’ head swiveled around as he stared at Piett with wide eyes. ‘And why are <em>you</em> nodding!?’ he asked, an edge of hysteria to his voice that really, was rather overdone.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at his friend and crossed his arms. ‘For the exact reason Engineer Lars said, Max,’ he retorted flatly, to the beaming delight of the young man in question, ‘We’ve all been there.’</p><p>‘No the fuck we’ve not!’ Veers retorted with an aghast expression, and if there was ever anything that illustrated the differences between growing up core and outer rim, it was that, in Piett's opinion.</p><p>‘Well, I have,’ he said primly. ‘And so has Engineer Lars. So if the Troopers here know what we’re talking about as well, I dare say it’s just you, Max,’ he finished with just a twitch of the corner of his mouth, Lars gesturing happily towards him with a “see?” expression aimed towards Veers, who was looking rather pale.</p><p>‘I know I have,’ Boomer agreed easily. ‘Lord Vader is rather clear about how to deal with the Hutt families and their lackeys. And I’d say Hex has as well, right, <em>vod?’</em> he asked with a teasing lilt.</p><p>‘Leave me out of it, trouble,’ the until-now-silent clone said as he continued scrolling through whatever he was reading on his pad. ‘But yes, I have. Multiple times.’ He looked up and Piett was struck how, despite having the exact same eyes as his brother, Sergeant Hex’s eyes looked like they were struck from metal, hard and steely. ‘Lord Vader is <em>very</em> clear in that aspect, yes.’</p><p>That struck Piett as significant somehow. Lord Vader wasn’t diplomatic about many things by any means, but to order antagonism out of hand against supposed allies, tentative though they may be, wasn’t exactly his style. From the corner of his eye, Piett noticed that Lars merely grinned a strange, knowing grin that he ducked his head just a second too late to hide entirely. He pursed his lips as he contemplated what that look could mean, but was stopped from pursuing the train of thought when Veers regained his voice.</p><p>‘Right,’ he said, just a little wary, ‘You all murdered someone in relation to the Hutts. That’s… enlightening to know.’</p><p>‘You haven’t?’ Lars asked, surprise in his voice and earlier strange look entirely gone. Then two ticks went by as Piett could perfectly visualize the gears turning in the young man’s head, before his eyes widened and he suddenly nodded in understanding. ‘<em>Right</em>. Core world. Of course,’ he said like he’d just figured it out in a moment that Piett remembered all too well from his own experiences when he’d just gotten promoted into the higher ranks and transferred out of the Axxila antipirate fleet.</p><p>‘Indeed,’ Piett agreed with the young man, sparing only a quick glance towards Veers who seemed to be slowly catching up with what was going on. ‘I don’t think our good General has ever even been in a situation where one would have to drive a hand’s length of durasteel through an eye or two of various Hutt employees.’ He looked towards Max and gave him a bland smile. ‘And it shows,’ he stated airily, not letting his expression betray any kind of glee at the blooming offense in his friend’s expression.</p><p>‘Oi!’ Veers protested, ‘Are you calling me soft?’</p><p>Piett raised an eyebrow in challenge at his friends and allowed a small bit of glee to filter through. ‘I’m afraid those are your words, Max,’ he deflected evenly, ‘Not mine.’</p><p>Veers gaped in indignity at his words and promptly narrowed his eyes. ‘I ought to pick you up and throw you out for that one, small fry,’ he shot back, and Piett—</p><p>Piett could take a lot of jabs at his somewhat lacking height, but that didn’t mean he had to take them lying down. ‘Attempt to do so,’ he retorted icily, ‘And I will inform you that I have teeth and absolutely <em>do not</em> have the core world hesitancy about using them as weapons. I <em>will</em> bite you.’</p><p>While Veers was busy looking at him in utter bewilderment, Piett noticed that Lars was beaming wide and nodding along with his words like he’d been waiting for someone to say them for a long time. He smiled mildly at the young man as he dipped his head towards him. ‘I take it you agree with my tactics, Engineer Lars?’ he asked with some amusement.</p><p>‘Teeth: the oldest weapon we have,’ Lars said by way of agreement, nodding happily. ‘And they’re good if you can only get one shot in and have to make a run for it. The infections can kill if you bite deep enough,’ he noted with glee, and Piett felt more than one memory resurface at that little reminder.</p><p>‘True enough,’ he agreed as he thought back to his days hunting for pirates. ‘I know of at least one slippery pirate who met his end by that manner.’ He grinned a rare, vicious grin that Lars matched one to one. ‘Apparently, some of the bacteria in human saliva are especially dangerous to trandoshans, regenerative properties be damned.’</p><p>Lars’ eyes lit up as Piett divulged the little nugget of information he’d kept tucked away, just in case. ‘Oh really?’ he said, a light hint of glee dancing along the edges of his tone. ‘How effective would you say it is, Admiral?’ he asked eagerly, and Piett nearly laughed out loud at the alarmed look that Veers shot towards the young Engineer.</p><p>‘Considering he was found dead not twenty-four hours later in his ship?’ Piett said idly, noting how Lars’ eyes shone with something dangerous. ‘Very effective. If you ever find the need to run down a trandoshan and don’t want to risk tangling with superior strength, I recommend sinking your teeth into one of their softer scaled areas and staying out of range afterwards. If you can keep up the pressure afterwards, you can weaken them before you tire.’</p><p>‘Duly noted, Admiral,’ Lars said with a gleam in his eyes that Piett recognized all too well. He had a feeling that if any trandoshan was ever foolish enough to cross paths with Luke Lars, they’d find themselves in a very nasty pickle indeed.</p><p>‘You are both absolutely insane,’ Veers stated with pure conviction, eyes snapping between the two of them before finally fixing on Lars. ‘Also, kid, how the <em>hell</em> did you know the infection of a bite can kill!?’</p><p>Lars blinked innocently at Veers and Piett stifled a laugh at how bewildered the young man looked at being asked that question. ‘Experience, General Veers,’ he answered bluntly, <em>‘Obviously.’</em></p><p>Veers stared openly at the young Engineer, and Piett could hardly keep himself from laughing at his friend getting confronted with some of the realities of what Lars growing up in the outer rim meant. Boomer, it seemed, had no such reservations and was shaking with laughter at Piett's shoulder.</p><p>‘You attempted to kill someone by giving them an infection?’ Veers asked flatly, something deadening in his eyes as he glanced between Lars and Piett.</p><p>Lars gave the General a strange look and shook his head slowly. ‘No, I <em>attempted</em> to kill someone by tearing out their throat with my teeth,’ Lars corrected slowly, and Piett watched in increasing amusement as those words visibly registered with Veers like a slap to the face. ‘I <em>succeeded</em> in killing them through an infection when they got away,’ Lars continued, giving the man a strange look. ‘Are you okay, General Veers? You don’t look too good.’</p><p>‘I’m fine, kid,’ Veers replied mechanically.</p><p>Lars’ face took on a distinctively dubious quality at those words as his face twisted into something distinctly odd. ‘I guess the saying “like father, like son” really is true, huh?’ he muttered quietly and that was an interesting thing to say indeed.</p><p>‘What do you mean, Engineer Lars?’ Piett asked when Veers was too slow to respond. ‘Do you mean Zevulon—?’</p><p>‘Has a similar reaction?’ Lars finished with a significant look. ‘Yeah, absolutely.’ He turned back towards Veers and gave the man a considering look. ‘I didn’t think that it would be that surprising to you, General, considering your occupation, but I guess the core and the outer rim really differ in these aspects.’</p><p>‘They most certainly do,’ Piett agreed before Veers could get a word in edgewise. ‘It was an adjustment for me as well, I can tell you that much,’ he told the young man, who grimaced in sympathy.</p><p>‘Yeah, it certainly seems like there’s a lot less…’ he trailed off, likely trying to find the right words for how the core seemed to lack all manner of constant death and danger that the outer rim possessed, to the point of hardening its inhabitants to certain things to an apparently excessive amount. At least as far as core worlders were concerned. To Piett it rather seemed like there were things the core would benefit from understanding, but who was he in the grand scheme of things?</p><p>‘Hostile?’ Veers suggested flatly. ‘Less hostile? Because it sure as hell seems to be.’</p><p>Piett gave his friend an unimpressed look. ‘Continuous exploitation and neglect will do that to a territory,’ Piett retorted flatly, tone dripping with a casual acid. ‘Not to mention no protection whatsoever from the more unsavory and immoral elements of the galaxy.’</p><p>Veers grimaced as he inclined his head. ‘Fair enough, I suppose that would be enough to drive anyone to harden,’ he agreed, glancing back to Lars, curiosity in his face. ‘Though I wouldn’t expect it from you, kid,’ he admitted with a small edge of wonder and caution to his tone. ‘You certainly don’t have the demeanor of someone who’s killed.’</p><p>Lars raised an eyebrow towards Veers, a supremely unimpressed expression on his face. ‘General Veers, with all due respect, didn’t you think that was perhaps the point?’ he retorted with a serious tone. ‘I would hardly want to let a single instance define me, and the death of a slaver certainly wasn’t worth the amount of thought it would take to change my demeanor after their death.’</p><p>Piett clicked his tongue as Boomer shifted besides him, shifting to attention, Hex doing something similar, even as Piett could see that he was pretending to remain engrossed in his datapad. ‘A slaver?’ Piett asked carefully, layering meanings into his voice that he had a feeling the young man would understand better than he had guessed. ‘I take it his… possessions got lost in the scuffle then?’</p><p>His suspicions were proven correct when Lars gave him a grin that was closer to the baring of teeth. ‘Utterly lost. Such a tragedy,’ he drawled, insincerity dripping from his voice like thawing ice, and underneath it something warm and familiar showed itself as Piett saw recognition spark in the young man’s eyes. ‘But those are always the risks of dealing with sentient possessions, wouldn’t you agree, Admiral?’ he asked with a significant and serious look in his eyes, and Piett knew that he had been right.</p><p>‘Oh, definitely,’ he agreed with an air of indifference, ‘I’m afraid more than one such shipment got lost on the way to declaring the goods transported by the pirates.’ And perhaps a couple of shipments that had been taken from a Hutt transport as well and that he’d been just a <em>tad</em> too busy to prevent from escaping. And maybe even a couple of shipments that multiple eyewitnesses had reported heading into regions known for their… ah, “slave theft” that he’d deemed unreliable tips. That hardly was relevant though, and judging by Lars’ knowing smile, he didn’t need to say it either.</p><p>Regardless of their divergent origin and culture, they were still both from the outer rim, and while Axxila was farther from the official boundaries of Hutt space than Tatooine was, functionally, the outer rim <em>was</em> Hutt space. This left a kind of understanding between most inhabitants of the outer rim that functioned as an open secret in three folds.</p><p>One, no one who was a halfway decent sort liked the Hutts or their “employees.” Two, no one who was a halfway decent sort liked their “signature cultural practice” either. Three, the fact that there were multiple, millennia-old networks within the outer rim dedicated to the freedom of the victims of said “cultural practice” was common knowledge and also never, ever talked about in the open. This idea was reinforced by the fact that these networks weren’t kept in operation by some secret society, but rather, by your everyday people themselves.</p><p>Now, Piett wasn’t a part of any of such networks—not officially anyway—and he doubted that Lars was either, but fact of the matter was that these kinds of operations were sustained by a cumulation of many small acts of resistance. Lost paperwork. Asking just the wrong questions when dealing with someone who could only speak broken Basic and fluent Huttese so that the inevitable conclusion was that they were just a tourist looking for the local accommodations. A habit of forgetfulness that left a convenient gate unlocked and a remote in reach. A couple of clerical oversights that meant that certain types of property were often impossible to reclaim. Excuses for leniency whenever a… thief specializing in sentient prizes was caught. Extradition treaties that were conveniently forgotten.</p><p>A million acts of small resistances that buoyed the networks never spoken of.</p><p>He looked at Lars, and in a pair of knowing blue eyes, he could see the three-fold understanding that the outer rim functioned on in these matters. He didn’t know what network Lars knew, and he didn’t know what the young man had done beyond getting into a scuffle with a lowlife scum so that certain possessions could be lost, but then, he didn’t need to know.</p><p>They both seemed to understand what wasn’t said just fine anyway.</p><p>Veers, on the other hand, was looking thoroughly lost between the two of them. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I just missed an entire conversation between the two of you?’ he muttered below his breath.</p><p>Lars glanced over towards the General and back towards Piett, mouth twitching with mirth as eyes began to sparkle with suppressed laughter. Suppression which failed near instantly and resulted in light chuckles beginning to spill over that slowly rose in volume, bright, happy, and as infectious as anything.</p><p>Piett couldn’t help but quietly laugh too, which quickly became louder as Veers shot them both utterly bewildered looks that really did nothing to quell their increasing amusement at the whole situation.</p><p>‘Probably because you did, sir,’ Boomer muttered just as bemused, even as he was grinning along with the laughter as well. ‘Though what it was, I couldn’t tell you.’</p><p>Regaining some control over his composure and reigning the laughter back into a small smile, Piett inclined his head towards both men. ‘Forgive us,’ he said with a grin that likely didn’t speak of too much sincerity, ‘It’s a… cultural thing.’</p><p>Lars snorted loudly but gamely nodded along. ‘Yup, a cultural thing,’ he agreed, trying to keep his face straight even as he was quite obviously still laughing inside. ‘Absolutely.’</p><p>Veers shot them both looks of blatant disbelief, and Piett knew that if he were to look to his side, he would see Boomer give him a very similar look. ‘Right,’ Veers drawled. ‘Sure. I believe you two.’</p><p>Lars laughed brightly, unable to keep a straight face anymore, but shook his head nonetheless. ‘You ought to, General,’ he informed the man, still laughing. ‘Admiral Piett is speaking the truth, just… from a certain point of view,’ he finished with a shrug and a lopsided grin.</p><p>Veers gave both Lars and Piett a long, considering look, before sighing and shaking his head. ‘Right, I’m not gonna ask any more questions. The answers only seem to get more insane with every word.’</p><p>‘A wise choice,’ he said mildly, mouth still curled into a smile. ‘Now then, as fun as it is to bewilder your core worlder sentiments, shall we move on to a more inclusive topic?’ He turned towards Lars with a slight nod. ‘Like, for instance, your prosthesis? I must say, it is quite spectacular,’ he complimented sincerely while Veers made an indignant sound.</p><p>It truly was, too. Glossy white and expertly sculpted, the plating looked far closer to porcelain than the metal it was undoubtedly made of, with the hints of mirror polished brass showing through in the joints and whenever a plate shifted <em>just</em> right, pulling it together into a truly a spectacular piece. And that was still disregarding the delicate artwork that was engraved and painted onto the prosthesis. All in all, Piett could only say that Lars had truly outdone himself in designing his own prosthetic arm.</p><p>Something that the young man seemed all too aware of as he grinned wide while looking down at the hand in question, elegantly flexing and curling the fingers as he rolled the wrist. ‘Thank you,’ he said, light and pleased. ‘Vader really went above and beyond, didn’t he?’</p><p>…Pardon?</p><p>He blinked twice at the young man as he distantly registered Boomer snickering softly at his side, glancing quickly towards Veers, he could see that his friend wasn’t in a much better state, openly gaping at Lars’ statement. Right.</p><p>‘I’m sorry,’ he said, still blinking slowly, ‘Could you— could you explain that last sentence to me?’ he said, not wanting to trust his ears, but at the same time, already resigned in some aspect to getting his worldview tipped onto its side once more. Setting aside the use of Lord Vader's… name, without any honorifics (He was not touching that one. Not in a million years. If Lars felt comfortable using it, that was his business and his business <em>alone.</em>) Piett decided to focus on the part that felt less like a landmine waiting to be tread on. ‘I was under the impression that you were the one who’d designed your prosthesis, Engineer Lars.’</p><p>‘Hm?’ Lars said as he looked up towards Piett, realization quickly sinking in as to what had been said. ‘What? No!’ he exclaimed, face rapidly setting into annoyance. ‘Has Vader been saying that we should both get the credit for this design again?’ he demanded, before huffing out a breath and rolling his eyes. ‘He’s lying if he has, by the way. He was the one to design it, and I only helped refine some of the systems. Everything else, from the core machinery to the engraving, came from him.’</p><p><em>That really, </em>really<em> wasn't the issue here,</em> Piett thought, even as he filed away the information for later use, just in case. ‘I… will keep that in mind,’ he said, as he tried to process the information that Lord Vader was the one responsible for the creation of Lars’ arm without letting it shake him too badly. It only made sense after all he’d seen in the last few days, after all.</p><p>Something that he could see nearly reflected in Veers’ face as he took in the words. ‘…Right, well, kid,’ he said, mind clearly lagging far behind with the information that had just been loaded into it, even if they’d both gotten more proficient at dealing with Lars-induced mental overloads over the last couple of months, ‘He hasn’t been saying that, thankfully, but his Lordship hasn’t exactly been open about the fact that he was the one to design your prosthesis either, so this is news to us,’ he said, and Piett had to commend him on finding his feet again so soon when Lars had just finished knocking them both flat.</p><p>‘Quite right,’ he agreed, his voice once more under control as he quickly suppressed any other instinctual reaction. He’d been fine when he’d had to give report while Lord Vader had been patiently allowing himself to be treated like a pillow by Lars. He could handle this. ‘Aside from that,’ he continued, eyeing the prosthesis with a new perspective, ‘I was also unaware that Lord Vader was an artist, so I assumed that the artwork on your arm was of your own design.’ He dipped his head towards Lars as the young man gained an understanding smile on his face. ‘My apologies.’</p><p>‘No need, Admiral,’ Lars waved off, ‘I apologize for my outburst, but Vader's been something of a stubborn bull on this matter.’ The Engineer rolled his eyes like he hadn’t just made a remark that, coming from anyone else, would have turned Piett's blood to ice. As it stood, it was nearly entertaining to see the young man grouse about Lord Vader being… stubborn. ‘I say he designed it—which he did, he says I helped design it, I say it’s bullshit, I just helped him work out the kinks, he goes on to say we both designed it anyway,’ Lars continued with an exasperated tone. ‘I swear, he’s impossible sometimes.’</p><p>The fact that that last statement was said with a grin and no shortage of fondness made Piett think that the Engineer was being far from as sincere in his griping as he was pretending to be, but Piett decided not to draw any attention to it. It was hardly his place to mediate, after all. ‘Oh dear,’ was instead what he said, with no shortage of amusement, Veers shamelessly cackling at the young man’s irritation.</p><p>‘His Lordship's been driving you up the wall, kid?’ he asked, still laughing under his breath, eyes sparking with mirth.</p><p>Lars groaned out a long, drawn out sound as he plopped back against the pillows propping him up. A sight so comedic, that Piett couldn’t help but laugh along with Veers and Boomer at the young man’s dramatics, his eyes catching Sergeant Hex smiling from the corners of his eyes as well. ‘I swear,’ Lars groused, ‘He’s the very embodiment of a mother hen sometimes. You know he made me go to bed yesterday evening? While I was already <em>in bed?’</em> Lars huffed and crossed his arms as he stared at the ceiling, successfully ignoring Boomer howling with laughter and Piett attempting to stifle a stubborn chuckle that was making an inspired attempt to be heard at Lars’ indignation.</p><p>‘And how late was it when he made you do that, kid?’ Veers asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly not taking Lars’ side in this matter in a manner of parental solidarity that made something in Piett's hindbrain shriek in panic at the comparison while another part promptly bashed it in to stop it from ruining the moment.</p><p>Lars shot the General a baleful look before going back to staring indignantly at the ceiling. ‘Two hundred hours,’ he admitted begrudgingly, Piett no longer being able to contain a snort at the sheer spite in Lars’ voice at being found out, to which Veers gave the young man a significant look.</p><p>‘I’m with his Lordship on this one, kid,’ Veers informed Lars blithely, ‘You needed to go the hell to sleep.’</p><p>‘I’ve been on bed rest for over a week!’ Lars protested vehemently, ‘Excuse me for having too much energy pent up to just sleep the entire time!’</p><p>Veers crossed his arms, leveling the youth with an unimpressed look, and Piett, for one wild moment, wanted to remind his friend that he already had a son and really, <em>really</em> didn’t want to be encroaching on the role of Lars’ parent as well. He had a feeling that Veers was not prepared in the slightest to deal with the full consequences of stepping into <em>that</em> rancor nest of a situation. He squashed the instinct, and instead kept his mouth shut.</p><p>Veers, unfortunately, didn’t reach the same conclusion of what the optimal choice to make here was. ‘No excuse,’ he denied instantly, ‘You, kid, are recovering and need your rest, not to stay up to who-knows-o’clock in the morning.’</p><p>Lars glared at Veers for a moment and blew out an irritated breath as he looked back up to the ceiling. ‘Suns, you sound just like him, you know that, General?’ the young man muttered mutinously.</p><p>You could have heard a pin drop as soon as Lars had finished uttering those words, Veers staring utterly gobsmacked at the Engineer while the silence lasted for one beat, two—</p><p>And then Boomer utterly lost it.</p><p>The Trooper doubled over, howling with laughter as braced one hand on the end of Lars’ bed, shoulders shaking with the force of each laugh. ‘S— Sir,’ he stammered out between hiccupping cackles, ‘You can’t just <em>say</em> that!’</p><p>‘Well, it’s true!’ Lars protested vehemently. ‘If he doesn’t want to hear it, he shouldn’t be trying to mother hen me too!’</p><p>Piett breathed in deeply while he pressed his mouth into a thin line, determined not to join Boomer in his uncontrollable laughter, even if it was a near thing. Force, since when had his life turned into one where he could hear a young Engineer compare a flabbergasted General to Lord Vader because the man was acting <em>paternal</em> and not immediately assume he’d ended up in a madhouse?</p><p>Well, at least it was far from a dull one. He could take a hit or two to his sanity if it meant he’d never be bored. Even if it likely was bad on his nerves.</p><p>Veers didn’t seem to agree however, wide-eyed and slack jawed as the man was while he stared blankly ahead, and Piett couldn’t help the small snicker that escaped him even while Boomer was still nearly choking on his laughter. Maybe he should have warned his friend after all. At least before Lars decided to drop the casual conversational equivalent of a bomb like he had.</p><p>Force, the young man didn’t even look like he understood in the slightest why his comment had seemed to put Veers temporarily out of commission. He merely looked at all of them with a furrowed brow and confusion in his eyes.</p><p>Eventually, Boomer’s laughter tapered off to something more manageable, and Piett's mirth had subsided enough that he felt confident that he wasn’t going to lose his composure any time soon.</p><p>‘Quite right,’ he agreed with the young man, even as Veers finally seemed to register enough of the outside world again to give him a betrayed look that he returned with complete equanimity. ‘He shouldn’t be,’ he finished, giving his friend a significant look that hopefully conveyed both the fact that he shouldn’t have been encroaching far enough into Lars’ (already rather taken) parental niche that even the youth noticed it and also that he brought this upon himself.</p><p>A message that, thankfully, finally seemed to register with Veers.</p><p>‘Alright, alright,’ the man grumbled, ‘I yield, I yield. I’m just <em>saying</em> that the kid—’</p><p>‘Already seems to have a well-enough support system in Lord Vader when it comes to the matters of regulating sleeping schedules?’ Piett suggested innocently, Veers’ mouth still opening and closing as Piett effectively cut off whatever disastrous answer he might have given. ‘Glad we agree, <em>Max,’</em> he continued, steamrolling over whatever answer that might’ve been given.</p><p>‘That most definitely is a stance I can get behind!’ Lars agreed enthusiastically, clapping his hands together and further railroading the conversation right over Veers. ‘So now that we’re all in agreement, can we move on to better topics?’</p><p>‘Now hold on for just one minute, you two—’ Veers attempted to cut in. Unsuccessfully, Piett might add.</p><p>‘I do believe we were discussing the design of your new prosthesis,’ Piett agree easily, blatantly ignoring the indignant sound Veers made and the hiccupping laughs coming from Boomer. ‘I recall you were talking about how you and Lord Vader refined the design?’</p><p>‘Are you just—?’ Veers tried again, and Boomer really was not sounding too well as his laughter turned to coughing, the poor clone now nearly lying flat on the floor as he continued to laugh.</p><p>‘Right,’ Lars agreed, completely bypassing whatever comment Veers was attempting to make as he grabbed his abandoned datapad and typed something in fast enough that Piett had trouble following the Engineer’s fingers as more than a blur. The device spat out a hologram of a certain prosthetic arm, and really, Piett probably shouldn’t be feeling quite this much glee as he saw the disgruntled realization dawn on Veers face that he wasn’t going to beat this. Lars with a presentation was Lars in charge of the room, no questions about it.</p><p>Hiding his glee and smiling blandly in return to the baleful glare shot his way by the General, Piett settled in to listen to the young Engineer present his—or well, <em>Lord Vader’s</em> and his, Piett thought as he recalled Lars’ insistence on that fact—latest design. Apparently, more than a couple of innovations had needed to be made to make the prosthesis able to do exactly what they both had wanted it to do. Though at least this time, from what Piett understood, because Lord Vader had been the chief designer in the project, Lars hadn’t needed to reinvent two dozen technologies from the bottom up.</p><p>No, no, that would be ridiculous.</p><p>He’d only needed to reinvent six and leave the rest to Lord Vader, who was apparently more than capable of making mechanical magic like Lars was.</p><p>He believed there was a saying that was usually applied in these sorts of situations likening one family member to another, but he would, quite frankly, rather deal with the whole conspiracy of madness and fragile mediocrity once more than to crack open that particular can of worms that contained a situation that he had no business sticking his nose in in the first place.</p><p>Especially since there was a very real possibility of stumbling upon something where not even the tooka killed by its curiosity could be brought back by the satisfaction of the answer.</p><p><em>And besides,</em> he thought as he settled in a bit further, content to watch Lars light up like Empire Day fireworks every time he got to explain how he and Lord Vader worked together to figure out this and that, <em>it hardly seemed like he needed to involve himself in any capacity to begin with.</em></p><p>Lord Vader and Lars were clearly handling themselves well enough in this strange thing they were developing between the two of them, even while routinely flipping Piett's understanding of the world on its head. That much was clear from the statement piece that the Engineer had found himself wearing on his arm.</p><p>Even as Lars gestured towards the hologram, Piett paid it no mind as he distantly registered the lecture, choosing instead to focus on the right arm making all sorts of movements and gestures, as fluid as any organic hand. He nearly missed it when his comm buzzed in his pocket, and discretely checking the screen, he noticed that he’d received a message from one Sergeant Hex, with the subject line “permission request for a plan re. Lars.” Raising an eyebrow and glancing towards the man, he saw that the Trooper had shifted minutely and was looking at Piett from the barest corner of his eye, offering an imperceptible nod when their eyes met before going back to typing on his holopad.</p><p> Pursing his lips, Piett resolved to check the message later and slid his comm back into his pocket, returning his attention to the impromptu presentation Lars was giving and his train of thought connected to it. Specifically, the prosthesis.</p><p>Something told him that that prosthesis was not just a prosthesis.</p><p>Now perhaps this might be because Piett had spent either quite a lot of time in the Navy, and quite a lot of time acting under Lord Vader's command, but he dared say that that prosthesis held a statement that was more than just the technological marvel that it was.</p><p>If the sheer detail, thought, and ardent care that had been poured into the design that was currently resting on Lars’ arm said anything at all, it said to Piett that that the young man, by accident or deliberation, had found one of the greatest treasures of all.</p><p>To be loved to the point of invention.</p><p>A grand statement, to be sure, but one that Piett, as he watched Lars perform increasingly complicated movements with his hands in order to convey equally increasingly complex mechanical concepts, had little doubt of.</p><p>It spoke a testament to how thoroughly odd Piett's life had become these last few weeks that he would consider such a statement fact, and not insane speculation, but then—</p><p>He smiled as Lars made another, sweeping gesture with his prosthetic hand, beaming wide and jubilant as he explained the spat he and Lord Vader had had concerning the wiring within his arm, affection for the black specter of death clear in every word and movement, not a trace of fear to be found as he recounted bickering with the terror of the galaxy over his methods of engineering.</p><p>But then, perhaps he found that he didn’t mind in the slightest.</p><p>Perhaps he would be able to live with just a bit more insanity if it meant getting to see this extraordinary event unfold.</p><p>After all, it was only good form for an Admiral to keep an eye on the Officers on his ship. And it was even better form for Piett to keep an eye on his young friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then, here we are. Finally put that "Deification of Character" tag to good use, huh? But yes, things are ramping up with Luke's reputation amongst the Lady's crew, something that no one probably thought was possible, but goes to show what they know. We'll be seeing how this shakes out next week, so I hope you'll all join me then. Until Sunday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. For Better, For Worse, And You Will Not Understand Why</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke finally gets out of the medical wing, and finds that there are friends waiting for him on the outside</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Belated April Fools, Happy Easter, and a very happy last day of Pesach to all who celebrate it! </p><p>I'm back with another chapter, and this time, it's personal. Sixteen chapters of pain, misery, betrayal, death, and slow healing from the events of all the above, I say it's high time we ring in a bit of levity into this whole affair! </p><p>So without further ado, <i>enjoy!</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been over a week after he’d first woken up in the recovery ward, and Luke Skywalker was finally, <em>finally</em> about to be cleared from bedrest and allowed to roam about. Or at least he hoped he was.</p><p>Hardly able to contain his excitement as he sat through his final examination with Medic Pelli and Medic Valent, Luke was nearly vibrating at the prospect of finally being allowed out of the medical wing, as great as receiving visitors yesterday had been. Dozens of people had come by over the course of the day, and many had told him that, while the receptionist (who Luke knew to be named Ethan and who was very fond of all manner of organizational systems) had apparently and unceremoniously pulled a blaster on any groups larger than four, telling them at gun point to <em>make</em> the visiting group one of four or he would do it for them, there were still many more people who had hoped to visit.</p><p>He’d been both touched and nearly disappointed to hear that, as he certainly would have loved to see all the people who’d decided to take a little time out of their day to come see him, or even to send him a small mountain of gifts.</p><p>Casting a quick glance to where there was still an absolutely obscene amount of food and general tokens that had been gifted to him, Luke wondered if he’d ever be able to eat it all. He sighed silently. They were appreciated, of course, and he knew that more than a little work had been expended to gather some of these to give to him, but he really did wonder what he was going to do with the food. He couldn’t possibly eat all of it, and even if pretty much all the food was packaged and able to be preserved for months, if not years at a time, it was still the principle of things.</p><p>His instincts told him to hoard it away somewhere, in case of lean times, but… this wasn’t the Homestead where such behavior had not only been encouraged by his Aunt and Uncle, but refined to the point of being an art form. This was the Lady, and while there were over one-point-two <em>million</em> people aboard, it wasn’t a place of scarcity when it came to food. And at that point it just felt… wrong to hoard it, even if his instincts were telling him to store it all, just in case. But frankly, he didn’t know what else to do with it besides slowly eat his way through it over the course of the next few weeks or months, since it wasn’t like anyone had so far agreed to help him eat through it.</p><p>Huffing out a soft breath, Luke drew his attention back to where both Tai’li and Mira were discussing his medical chart and whether or not to give him the clear to return to his more or less regular routine, even if he wouldn’t be allowed to start working again for some time yet. They’d been at it for at least ten minutes by now, and glancing around the room at all present, Luke didn’t think he was the only one who couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. Or at least, he was pretty sure he wasn’t.</p><p>Boomer looked to be about two seconds away from starting to bite his nails, and for all that Volt and Slice were busy with a game of cards, they too glanced nervously towards the Medics now and again, which inevitably nearly resulted in a fight when the other attempted to use the opportunity to read their cards while they were distracted. Cody and Appo were watching the proceedings with eyes that made Luke think of birds of prey, and Hex, while the man was once again on his datapad, was clearly paying attention towards the proceedings as well, if his occasional upward glances were anything to consider.</p><p>And then there was Vader.</p><p>Glancing up at the man still standing still besides him, Luke couldn’t help but be grateful for his presence here, even if he knew that the man technically ought to be working. But Vader had told him he would make time, and make time he did.</p><p>Which lead to where they all were at the moment; anxiously waiting on the conclusion of the discussion between the Medics that was happening in the corner of the recovery ward and that, if Luke had to guess, seemed to finally be reaching a conclusion.</p><p>Mira nodded towards Tai'li as the latter woman seemed to reach a conclusion, and both of them turn to face their little group once more as they walked towards them, a wide grin on Mira's face and a small quirk at the corner of Tai'li's mouth.</p><p>‘Well then,’ Tai'li said as she neatly ordered her own datapad, ‘I suppose we should no longer keep you in suspense and let you know our conclusions, no?’ She nodded towards Mira. ‘Valent, I don’t suppose you would be so kind as to give your assessment first?’</p><p>Mira snorted and winked with a smirk. ‘Not at all, Pelli,’ she agreed, before turning to Luke as she clapped her hands together. ‘Alright, kid, I’ll keep it short, since there’s really not much to say about all this: you’re good to go in my book.’ She paused in her explanation as a round of cheers went up, smiling just as wide as Luke was at those words. ‘The bacta did exactly what it was supposed to do, and I see no signs of the burns leaving any lasting damage,’ she continued easily. ‘The grafts used to guide your body into reforming your skin the proper way have also all dissolved near-perfectly.’ She shrugged a shoulder as she looked down to Luke, the lines in her face only serving to make her smile that much warmer. ‘From a burn perspective, you’re about as healed as you’re gonna get, kid, and I see no reason to stuff you into a bed any further. <em>However—’</em> she continued before the cheering could restart again, ‘Burns are not the same as an amputation, and on that aspect I have no authority.’ She nodded toward Tai’li again and stepped back. ‘Take it away, Pelli.’</p><p>Tai’li seemed more than happy to do so as she stepped forwards, still smiling slightly. ‘Thank you, Valent,’ she acknowledged with a dip of her head before consulting the datapad she was holding to her chest. ‘Well, all in all, you are progressing much better than anticipated, Luke,’ she noted as she scrolled through what he presumed was his file. ‘Far above average in all terms of recovery, no phantom pains to speak of, as rapid an integration of the neural-connection ports as I’ve <em>ever</em> seen,’ she summed up, still scrolling, ‘Add to that the abnormally positive response to bacta treatment, and the rate at which you’ve progressed in adapting towards your prosthesis, and I’d say you’re well at the positive end of the recovery spectrum when it comes to human physiology.’ With that, she tucked her datapad back to her chest as Luke waited with baited breath for what the outcome would be.</p><p>Suns, he hoped he wasn’t forced to stay in bed for another however long she would decide was necessary. He could barely handle the week he’d had to sit through so far, let alone another one.</p><p>But Tai’li smiled softly as she dipped her head towards him. ‘As I can’t see any further benefit to be gained from bedrest that couldn’t also be gained from a limited workload and light duty for a couple of weeks, I’m clearing you to leave the medical wing. You’ll need to check in every day for the next five days, and every other day for the next ten days after that, but as of this moment, you are discharged from the recovery ward.’ She offered him a bright, genuine smile as the clones cheered loudly. ‘Congratulations, Luke.’</p><p>Luke, for his part, was beaming wide enough that his cheeks hurt as Vader quietly squeezed his shoulder in mutual relief and celebration. Unfortunately, Vader was, and likely would always be, an utter mother hen.</p><p>‘I would ask that you clarify what you mean by a limited workload, Medic Pelli,’ his Home rumbled out, the tone soothing even as the words were not. ‘There are quite a number of ways to interpret that statement and not all are conductive to healing.’ And here Luke <em>had</em> to shoot a look of betrayal at Vader.  Come <em>on,</em> he was almost out of here!</p><p>But all he got from Vader was a quiet determination and Tai’li nodded at his words, the snickering amongst the clones telling Luke that he’d been had, and that he wasn’t getting out of this one. Crossing his arms and blowing out a breath, he settled in as he was about to hear how, despite being allowed to roam, he still wouldn’t be allowed a full range of motion.</p><p>‘It’s good that you mention it, my Lord,’ Tai’li agreed as she once more began to scroll through her datapad until she found the right section, clearing her throat. ‘Considering the rapid recovery and adaptation to the prosthesis, I reevaluated the usual recovery schedule and recommend at least one more week of complete rest. No work, no projects, nothing,’ she finished that last sentence with a stern look towards Luke, and as much as he didn’t like it, he knew he was outgunned here and nodded reluctantly.</p><p>‘Understood,’ he agreed, even if with obvious enough reluctance that Vader saw it fit to softly squeeze his shoulder in comfort.</p><p>Tai’li, however, was utterly unmoved by Luke's distaste for being ordered to take it easy. ‘Good,’ she said bluntly, resuming reading off of her datapad. ‘If all goes well and you show enough improvement by the end of the week, I’ll consider clearing you for light duty. And if <em>that</em> goes well for the following two weeks, <em>then</em> you can fully return to active duty,’ she finished, tucking her datapad back against her chest. ‘Clear?’</p><p>Luke nodded his head miserably as he considered the next three weeks of being allowed to do little to nothing. ‘Crystal,’ he muttered.</p><p>‘Aw, c’mon, sir,’ Boomer said from off to the side. ‘Think of it as a week of paid leave! Without the leave part, but definitely with all the rest of it!’</p><p>‘Shut up, Boomer,’ Cody snapped, turning to Luke with a sympathetic expression. ‘It’ll be over before you know it, sir,’ he tried to reassure Luke, and while he could see the man was clearly somewhat inexperienced with it all, he was trying, and that definitely counted for something. Smiling weakly at the Trooper and getting a smile in return, he nodded his thanks.</p><p>‘It won’t be so bad, sir,’ Appo followed up, ‘Who knows, you might even appreciate it? There’s loads of ways to keep busy, and time will fly before you know it.’</p><p>‘Maybe sooner than anticipated,’ Volt muttered under his breath, before getting swiftly elbowed in the gut by Slice.</p><p>‘Shut it,’ the other clone hissed.</p><p>And before he could ask what all <em>that</em> was about, Luke felt Vader quietly squeeze his shoulder. Looking up, his gaze was met by familiar red lenses, staring back at him intently while he felt all manner of emotions gently push up against his mind, vying for acknowledgement and attention. Care, worry, hope, fear, love, a burning need to <em>protect—</em></p><p>Luke breathed out and nodded towards the man. He would wait out the week. He would. A feeling of gratitude washed over him, Vader's tense posture relaxed minutely, and that was that, Luke supposed. One week. He could do one week. Even if he wasn’t allowed to work, he could still roam the Lady and stretch his legs, no?</p><p>‘Alright,’ he muttered, ‘Fine. So, one week, then a re-evaluation, and then light duty?’ he asked, unable to help the hopeful lilt at the end of his sentence.</p><p>Tai’li huffed out a light laugh and nodded. ‘Yes, pretty much,’ she agreed, eyes sparking with mirth. ‘In the meantime, though, you’re free to leave whenever you are ready. And I don’t doubt that there are many people waiting to greet you back, which should be fine as long as you don’t do anything too strenuous,’ she noted with a significant look, that Luke couldn’t help but feel sheepish over. That sheepishness was quickly overridden when he realized something else though.</p><p>‘I can’t work,’ he said slowly, and idea beginning to form in his mind that echoed of long nights spent listening to the thunderstorms chase across the salt flats, the sweet tones of instruments joining the greatest percussion beat that anyone could ever dream of. ‘But does that mean I’m also not allowed to be present while <em>others</em> work?’</p><p>He didn’t need to work to help out, after all. Sometimes all that was needed was a particular kind of support that lifted the spirits and made for light and easy work.</p><p>Tai’li gave him a suspicious look, but nodded hesitantly. ‘That should be fine, yes,’ she allowed, ‘Though I will remind you that while there’s certainly more than one loophole to be found in my instructions, I ask that you keep in mind the spirit in which they were intended. They are meant to help you recover, not to hinder.’</p><p>‘And I understand that,’ Luke reassured quickly, his mind flashing through a thousand memories while he did so. ‘But I was merely asking in order to see if it would be okay to try something out. Something that wouldn’t involve working.’</p><p>A deep, rattling noise of static erupted from above him, and he instantly recognized it as one of Vader's chuckles. ‘He speaks the truth, Medic Pelli,’ he rumbled. ‘He is not intending to subvert your orders to the best of his knowledge,’ he stated, rubbing a discrete thumb over Luke's shoulder while the air swelled with a quiet pride that filled Luke with warmth and a feeling of recognition.</p><p>‘See?’ Luke said, gesturing towards Vader, ‘Just checking, no mischief intended.’</p><p>‘I would not go that far, Luke,’ Vader countered as he crossed his arms, looking down at Luke over them with a significant look that he could feel even through the impassive mask. ‘You get up to a far larger amount of trouble than could feasibly be dismissed as mere mischief.’</p><p>‘But I don’t <em>intend</em> to,’ Luke pointed out in a tone that was <em>definitely</em> not a whine. Definitely not. ‘Doesn’t that count for something?’</p><p>‘It <em>counts</em> towards your natural proclivity for landing yourself in difficult situations, certainly,’ Vader agreed easily and Luke shot the man a dark look. That wasn’t what he’d meant and Vader knew it.</p><p>Something that was only confirmed when a light spark of amusement twisted through the air and danced around him in a manner that Luke refused to allow to affect him to the point of sulking, but which came pretty damn close. ‘Killjoy,’ he muttered under his breath.</p><p>‘I have certainly been called worse,’ Vader retorted blithely, amusement playfully nudging up against Luke until he was fighting to resist a smile.</p><p>‘Fine,’ he conceded, turning back to Tai’li and Mira who were watching the whole exchange with wide eyes and several bewildered emotions flying around, even as amused resignation seemed to be chief amongst them, the clones making attempts of varying success at hiding their snickering. ‘But it would be okay?’ he asked again, just to be sure. ‘I won’t be trying to do anything stupid, but if I have to sit in my room all day, I might just start climbing the walls.’</p><p>Tai’li sighed even as the corners of her mouth slightly quirked up, fondness pinging softly against Luke's mind. ‘Well, I certainly wouldn’t recommend wall climbing as your first attempt at exercise, but the rest should be fine,’ she allowed. ‘As long as you don’t perform any strenuous activity or operate heavy machinery, you’ll be fine.’</p><p>‘Yes!’ Luke cheered as he pumped a fist into the air, not even caring how it looked. He was finally getting out of here, and he was allowed to do something besides just sit in his room, <em>alone</em>, boring himself to death! He heard a quite rumbling of static, and still grinning wide, he looked up to Vader, matching the man’s amusement with his own one to one. ‘I agree,’ he said, satisfied like the loth-cat that got the cream, ‘This is sounding <em>much</em> better than I originally thought.’</p><p>‘Not so fast, Luke,’ Vader chided gently, ‘You may have a Medic’s permission, but you <em>will</em> listen to any instructions she gives for your recovery process.’</p><p>‘Like you do with Kix, my Lord,’ Cody said between coughs, which earned him a truly caustic glare from Vader that could be felt through the mask as it chilled the air, Cody holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender as Vader held the glare. ‘Just saying, my Lord.’</p><p>Luke caught the message and crossed his arms as he shot Vader a knowing smirk. ‘Oh, so this is a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of situation,’ he noted with some satisfaction as the air tinged with embarrassment, though Vader was quick to quash it.</p><p>‘Exactly,’ he rumbled towards Luke, and denial was apparently something that they were skipping in their entirety now. ‘My body works slightly different than yours does, little one,’ he explained, ‘The limits I possess are far different to that of a regular human, and thus I require less maintenance. <em>You,</em> on the other hand,’ he said, pointing a finger, <em>‘Will</em> be obeying Medic Pelli's orders, or I will personally ensure that you do.’</p><p>Giving the man a supremely unimpressed look, Luke inclined his head to the side in a lazy nod. ‘If it will keep your fussing to a minimum?’ he said blithely. ‘Sure.’</p><p>He didn’t think that Vader had ever been accused of fussing before, as the way the man abruptly froze for a moment would have made Luke think that the servos in his protheses had frozen when he’d given his response if it weren’t for the stunned shock that abruptly smacked into the air like a water bucket being turned on its head. The snickering and amused twinklings coming from the <em>vod'e</em> told him he wasn’t the only one who had noticed it, but Tai'li seemed to be rather lost with the whole situation. Which, considering that for all the fact that she was the foremost expert on protheses aboard the Lady and yet Kix still seemed to be Vader's primary physician? He could at least understand that part.</p><p>Vader seemed to be pretty intimidating to anyone who hadn’t met him before, at least that’s what Luke was gathering from all the interactions he’d witnessed so far.</p><p>At last Vader seemed to regain his voice, and Luke watched with some amusement as the man attempted to string together a sentence. ‘I— do not <em>fuss,</em> Luke,’ he objected, voice still stilted from an emotion Luke couldn’t quite decipher.</p><p>‘You do,’ Luke retorted easily, not caring too much about the increasing snickers coming from the clones’ direction, with Vader following his lead. ‘But you do it because you care, so it’s fine in my book.’</p><p>‘…Noted,’ Vader eventually said with a dip of his head. Then, with another whisper of embarrassment, he turned back toward Tai'li. ‘Well then, Medic Pelli,’ he said, voice slightly stilted, though Luke doubted anyone else would be able to tell, ‘Were there any other orders for Luke's recovery?’</p><p>Blinking once, Luke felt Tai'li's attention snap back towards the task at hand. ‘Right,’ she said, looking back towards her datapad. Pursing her lips into a line, she shook her head as she read through his file. ‘Not that I can see, my Lord,’ she answered, ‘Everything appears to be in order, and if Luke keeps to his appointments, I see no reason to apply further instructions or restrictions.’ She glanced up towards Luke and smiled slightly. ‘Just follow your check in schedule, my instructions, and you should be alright.’</p><p>‘And the you-know-what, doc?’ Boomer asked anxiously before Luke could get in a word edgewise.</p><p>‘Shut up, Boomer,’ Cody hissed out, elbowing Boomer sharply, but it was too late and Luke's curiosity perked up as he found a new target.</p><p>“You-know-what?” he asked, grinning towards Boomer who was now looking at him with wide eyes as he clapped a hand over his mouth, the air filled with mortification and the other clones’ consternation. ‘That sounds rather intriguing,’ he noted, laughter in his voice.</p><p>‘I uh— I,’ Boomer stammered, eyes still wide as he hastily backed away from Luke.</p><p>‘Trouble,’ Hex suddenly spoke up, still scrolling through his datapad, calm as could be, ‘If you spill, I will punt you out the airlock and make you scrub the whole outside of this ship with a hand sonic.’</p><p>‘Seconded,’ Cody and Appo hissed, both Commanders looking about two seconds away from hauling Boomer away to some undisclosed fate.</p><p>Boomer squeaked, and promptly slapped two hands over his mouth, casting a pleading look towards Luke who was barely keeping himself from laughing. Deciding to take pity on the poor Sergeant, Luke waved a hand towards the others to get their attention. ‘Alright, alright, that’s enough of that,’ he told them easily, ‘He didn’t say anything critical, and I won’t ask any further. Everyone relax.’</p><p>Thankfully, the other <em>vod'e</em> seemed to heed his words and relaxed their hostile stances, even if they were still glaring at Boomer, Luke noted, the poor man.</p><p>‘Well, if I’m not allowed to know,’ he continued easily, an idea coming to mind as he drew all eyes to him and away from the unfortunate clone, ‘Then I don’t see any point in continuing to ask, but if I can’t ask about that, can I ask something else?’</p><p>‘And what would that be, little one?’ Vader rumbled quietly at his shoulder.</p><p>‘Would <em>someone</em> be willing to get me something more suitable than a shirt and pajama pants to get to my quarters?’ Luke asked bluntly, gesturing down to his standard white medical outfit consisting of a loose-fitting shirt and drawstring pants. ‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel comfortable walking the hallways in this.’ Especially not a mere week after an assassination attempt.</p><p>Preferably, he would have wanted to wear his runner gear, the hardboiled leather lining some of his vitals giving him a sense of security even as he knew that it wouldn’t stand up to anything but a glancing blaster bolt. Convincing the mind was half the battle though, and even just feeling safer could make for a clearer head when needed.</p><p>Which is why, when he knew he couldn’t have his runner gear, he at least wanted to have his regular uniform to wear. Even if it wouldn’t physically protect him, the mindset it put him in definitely would.</p><p>Something which, to his pleasant surprise, someone else seemed to have realized as well.</p><p>‘On it, sir’ Cody said with a nod, swinging a pack from where it had been slung on his back and began to rummage through it. Watching in bemusement as the Commander pulled out what looked to be one of his overalls, shirts, socks, and a plastic bag with his boots in them, Luke had to wonder how he’d either gotten access to his quarters or somehow convinced the Quartermasters to give him a set.</p><p>‘Here you go, sir,’ the Commander said as he laid out the clothes at the foot of Luke's bed.</p><p>‘Dare I ask who allowed you into my quarters to get those, Commander?’ Luke asked, tone light with bemusement, and danger hidden deep. If someone could get into his quarters despite him being as careful as he could with the codes, he’d either been let in or used an override code. If he’d been let in, it was fine. He trusted the people who knew his code to do right with it and they knew it too, but if it was an override—</p><p>‘I did,’ a familiar voice rumbled out, and Luke turned his head to raise an incredulous eyebrow at Vader. Vader looked right back at him and tilted his head. ‘We thought you might wish to wear something other than medical fatigues, little one, so I let the Commander in to collect a set of clothes and nothing else. My apologies if you found this… invasive, we meant no breach of privacy,’ Vader murmured, apology suffusing the air and Luke instantly calmed down from the dread that had been building in his stomach. It was his Home who’d allowed entry. Everything was fine.</p><p>‘No, no,’ he declined. ‘It’s fine. I was just…’ he trailed off.</p><p>‘Wary,’ Vader finished easily.</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Luke admitted without shame. ‘I got worried for a second that an override might have been used, and I don’t… really trust overrides right now.’ Not after he’d lost his arm because the Admiral override codes worked on his workshop. He knew it was a necessity of working in the navy, but he wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t feel a great deal more comfortable with Admiral Piett holding those codes than he’d felt about Ozzel holding them.</p><p>‘Understandable,’ Vader agreed. ‘And perhaps even wise. Though you need not fear, Luke. After the assassination plot came to light, all access codes were revoked, including any overrides, with the only exceptions being my own, Admiral Piett's, and those of the Chief of the Fire Department and Chief Medical Officer. You will have to reinstate the ones of those you trust yourself.’</p><p>A weight fell off of Luke's shoulders as he smiled warmly at Vader, gratitude heavy in his chest. He knew this likely was far from regular protocol, and that there might be implications to be found about his state of mind in those actions, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest how it looked to everyone standing outside of their little bubble. Vader understood Luke's wariness, supported it, and that was enough.</p><p>‘Noted,’ he muttered gratefully, still smiling. He would have to think on those he would allow access to his quarters again, now that he had the knowledge that there might yet be people willing to declare him an Enemy yet on the Lady. He already had some idea of who would be trusted once more, the <em>vod’e</em> and some members of his Corps chief amongst them, but the rest would need a second look.</p><p>Later. First, he needed to get dressed in something that wasn’t essentially a set of pajamas.</p><p>‘Alright!’ he said, addressing the room at large, ‘I need to get dressed, which means that I would like some space and privacy for a moment, please and thank you.’ That statement, accompanied by a significant look, seemed to do the trick as the two Commanders began to herd out the other Troopers present.</p><p>‘Alright, clear out, don’t make me say it twice,’ Appo ordered while pushing at Volt and Slice’s shoulders, shoving the two Troopers along. ‘Give the Armorer some privacy. Boomer, you too.’</p><p>The clone in question sheepishly trailed after Appo, joined by Hex—<em>still</em> furiously typing away at his datapad—and the procession closed out by Cody as they headed for the recovery ward’s door. Watching on in bemused amusement, Luke nodded back to Cody when the man quickly glanced back towards him. ‘Just let us know when you’re done, sir.’ And with that, they were out the recovery ward.</p><p>Shaking her head at the antics of the <em>vod’e</em> with a smile, Tai'li nodded towards Luke as well. ‘That’s my cue then,’ she noted, ‘I have to go back to my other patients, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow for your appointment, Luke.’</p><p>‘Right,’ Luke agreed, smiling back, ‘Pleasant day then, Tai'li.’</p><p>‘Don’t forget to clear out your nightstand, hm?’ she said by way of goodbye, casting a significant look towards the piled-high piece of furniture, and then she was out the door.</p><p>With Tai'li gone as well, Vader finally came into motion, and with a quick squeeze of Luke's shoulder, he headed towards the door as well, slipping around the corner as the door hissed, sliding shut.</p><p>Shaking his head at the whole production, Luke focused on the clothes at the foot of his bed. Pulling back the covers, he swung his legs over the bed, shivering as the cold floor touched the soles of his feet. Grabbing the clothes, Luke changed out of the medical fatigues with quick, precise movements, his prosthesis slipping in and out of sleeves as easy as any organic hand, and before he knew it, he’d zipped up the front of his overalls and was pulling on his steel-toed boots, a process that was surprisingly easy with the strong grip of his prosthesis.</p><p>Straightening up again and stretching a bit this way and that, Luke concluded that he’d never been this happy to be back in his uniform. Not even when he finally got to change out of his dress uniform and get back to work on the Lady. Walking over to his nightstand, Luke picked up his ocarina still stashed there, and carefully slipped the beaded string over his head, tucking the instrument into his overall. There, he was ready.</p><p>Shaking himself one last time to get the overalls to fall properly out of their just-cleaned stiffness and rolling up the sleeves just a bit to show off his newest addition, Luke grinned wide as he headed for the door, feeling more like his old self than he had in days.</p><p>With a click and a hiss, the door opened to reveal the clones engaged in a lively conversation in Mando’a, Vader shortly interjecting in the same language, before they all fell silent as they caught sight of Luke.</p><p>Beaming at the men, a round of applause came his way as he stepped out into hallway, giving a playful twirl when Boomer whistled sharply. ‘Oh yeah, he’s back lads!’ the man crowed happily, grinning just as wide as his brothers while he clapped.</p><p>Hex smiled slightly as he finally looked up from his datapad, tucking the thing under his arm. ‘Just in time too, sir,’ he commented, ‘Everything’s ready, and with the confirmation of Medic Pelli—’ Confirmation? They must’ve talked in the hallway, because Luke remembered no confirmation, ‘—we’re ready to go.’</p><p>‘Wait, seriously?’ Boomer asked, ‘It’s done? How the hell did you pull that off?’</p><p>Hex shot the other man an icy look. ‘It’s called “hard work,” trouble,’ he sniffed, before turning back to the rest of them, ‘But yes, we’re ready to go.’</p><p>‘Ready to go for what?’ Luke asked, feeling rather lost.</p><p>‘No time!’ Boomer said excitedly, his enthusiasm coloring the air around him like a sunset as he started to push Luke along into the hall, ‘Come on, come on! We’re—'</p><p><em>‘Going to gather up the accumulated objects inside the recovery ward first,’</em> a deep voice rumbled, cutting into Boomer’s excitement and freezing the Trooper in his tracks, giving Luke the opportunity to duck out from under the man’s overenthusiastic efforts. ‘Just like Medic Pelli requested,’ Vader finished, crossing his arms and staring them all down.</p><p>‘Right you are, sir,’ Cody said, matching Vader's stance one-to-one as he too looked at Boomer, who was smiling sheepishly back at them, rubbing the back of his neck as embarrassment and vague apology spilled through the air.</p><p>‘Right, I forgot,’ he mumbled, before perking up, excitement sparking back to life in the air like fireworks. ‘Alright then!’ he said, clapping his hands together, ‘Let’s gather up that stuff and get going!’</p><p>‘Get going to <em>where?’</em> Luke asked again, still feeling a bit lost. ‘What are we doing?’</p><p>‘No time, no time!’ Boomer repeated, already rushing back into the recovery ward to start gathering up the many gifts and paraphernalia Luke had been gifted over the last twenty-four hours. ‘Volt! Slice! Help a <em>vod</em> out!’ he shouted over his shoulder.</p><p>Volt sighed and Slice rolled his eyes, exchanging significant looks before heading in as well, Luke following behind them to see what in the name of the Suns was going on.</p><p>Stepping in through the door, he saw that Boomer was already busying himself with shoving the small mountain of food that Luke had been gifted into his pack, whole heaping armfuls of dessert rations and various packaged sweets and baked goods disappearing into the pack. Volt and Slice, meanwhile, were busying themselves with all the cards and miscellaneous gifts he had received, carefully putting them into their own packs while Volt admonished Boomer to be more careful.</p><p>Shaking his head, Luke joined in and began helping Boomer pack away all the various cakes and cookies that he’d been gifted, making sure that the fragile and spongy foodstuffs weren’t squished in Boomer's haste. When the whole mountain of gifts and food had been packed away at an astonishing rate, Luke was once more nearly hauled to the door by an enthusiastic Boomer.</p><p>‘Alright, we got it all!’ The man said as he dashed out towards where the two Commanders had been slowly inching their way into the room as well, <em>‘Let’s go—!’</em></p><p>The man stopped in the middle of his tracks and Luke nearly tripped with how sudden the forward momentum he’d been dragged into fell away. Looking back towards the frozen Trooper, Luke was astounded to see that the man had, quite literally, been frozen mid-stride. Staring wide-eyed at the sight, Luke tried to figure out how, in the Name of the Desert, Boomer was balancing completely still on one foot, mid-stride, while only his eyes seemed to move.</p><p>‘I would appreciate it, Sergeant Boomer,’ Vader rumbled darkly, and all of a sudden it clicked for Luke that <em>he</em> was the one holding the Trooper immobile, ‘For you to be more careful with your manhandling of Luke.’ With that, whatever invisible hold there was on the Trooper fell away, and Boomer stumbled slightly while regaining his balance, yelping as he tripped.</p><p>‘Fuck! Oh shit!’ Boomer swore as he nearly faceplanted into the ground before hastily straightening up and snapping off a nervous salute to Vader. ‘Right, yes, of course, my Lord,’ he agreed hastily, even as the air was still clearly thrumming with the Sergeant’s excitement. He turned back towards Luke and for a moment he thought that the man was going to haul him along again, but instead Boomer merely stayed in place, nearly vibrating with excitement. ‘But can we go? Now? Please?’</p><p><em>‘Where?’</em> Luke asked again, exasperation coloring his tone as the Troopers began to move around him, his feet traveling with them as they walked down the hallway, still none the wiser as to where they were going.</p><p>A rumble of static and a heavy hand resting on his shoulder signaled Vader walking up to his side, a strange kind of anticipatory contentment shrouding the man. ‘You will see soon enough, little one,’ his Home muttered quietly, ‘But for now, please trust us.’</p><p>Looking up towards the man as the shroud of quiet contentment and burgeoning joy drew in around him as well, Luke felt the confusion and stress that had been building wash away, and relaxed. ‘Alright,’ he muttered back, now walking easily alongside Vader. ‘Just tell me how.’</p><p>‘Follow us to where we’re leading you, little one,’ Vader answered quietly, hand still resting on Luke's shoulder and squeezing gently, ‘And allow us to surprise you.’</p><p><em>A surprise?</em> ‘I reserve the right to bolt if it’s a jump scare,’ Luke muttered back, bumping softly against Vader's side while they walked down the medical wing’s halls, the Troopers once again engaged in their own conversation that he could only pick up half of. Though the half he did pick up seemed to mostly be Hex hissing insults towards Boomer for hauling Luke along like that as the latter tried to defend himself.</p><p>Vader rumbled out a chuckle, and dipped his head slightly. ‘Duly noted, little star.’</p><p>They walked in silence after that, keeping each other quiet company while the clones talked around them about all manner of things in their own tongue, the air light and gentle with excitement and joy. Checking himself out at the reception and wishing Ethan a pleasant day of organizing all manner of things, Luke got ushered into the elevators by the clones with Vader once again fending off Boomer when the man’s excitement got the better of him. Something for which he was still apologizing by the time they got to the rail car station when Vader refused to allow him near Luke again, to Luke's own great amusement.</p><p>‘Aw, c’mon, sir,’ Boomer whined, ‘I didn’t <em>mean</em> to knock into the <em>Goran.</em> Please?’ He folded his hands in an utterly ridiculous begging pose again, setting up the biggest eyes he could while Vader squarely planted himself between Boomer and Luke.</p><p>‘Until such a time that you have either calmed down or are no longer in a quarter ton heavy suit of power armor, the answer remains <em>no,</em> Sergeant,’ Vader answered testily, crossing his arms as he stared the Trooper down.</p><p>Boomer turned his wide eyes over to Luke as he leaned sideways around Vader to meet his gaze. ‘Sir?’ he asked, tone hurt and pleading, looking for all the world like a kicked pup.</p><p>Giving the clone a fond, but exasperate look, Luke shook his head. ‘Boomer, you nearly sent me flying into a wall. I'm sorry to say it, but I’m staying behind Vader until you’re no longer hyped enough to forget that you’re inside an exoskeleton that makes you strong enough to snap me in two.’</p><p>Whining lowly and hanging his head in an utterly melodramatic pantomime of remorse, Boomer drooped off to the side of the railcar to sulk to the stifled laughter of his brothers. Rolling his eyes at the man’s antics, Luke shifted his attention towards the door of the railcar when he felt his body begin to sway forward as the car came to a halt.</p><p>Once the doors swung open and he stepped out, he noticed with some confusion that they were in the station just outside the mess hall assigned to his Corps. Turning towards the others with a questioning look, he noticed the utter glee and excitement sparking in their eyes, with even Hex smiling slightly as they walked out, the air thick with anticipation.</p><p>‘Not much further now, sir,’ Cody noted with a grin. ‘Come on, let’s go.’</p><p>Now thoroughly puzzled but very, <em>very</em> curious, Luke allowed Vader to steer him along with the clones down the hallway, which was… strangely deserted. Looking around the arching hallway that was empty save for their tiny group, Luke couldn’t ever recall seeing it like this, not even during the graveyard hours between shift changes.</p><p>‘Where is everyone?’ he asked, looking around to see if he could find any soul still lingering around but finding no one. ‘Is there something going on?’</p><p>‘You’ll be finding out soon enough, sir,’ Appo told him, an edge of laughter drawing into his voice as they approached the entrance of the mess hall. ‘Anyways, we’re here.’</p><p>‘Then this is where I leave you, little one,’ Vader muttered quietly with a squeeze of his hand, ‘I wish you the best of luck.’</p><p><em>‘What?’</em> Luke asked, head whipping around to face the man, ‘Why? Do you need to go do something?’ Please no, he was feeling nervous enough without Vader leaving him to whatever the clones had planned.</p><p>But the vocoder hissed out a short burst of staticky amusement as Vader shook his head. ‘Not necessarily, little one,’ he denied gently, ‘But my presence would not be a welcomed one where you are about to walk into. It is best that I leave.’</p><p>‘Nuts to that noise,’ Luke protested without hesitation. ‘If I can go in, so can you.’ And then, a bit quieter so the clones wouldn’t pick up on it, ‘You’re my Home. And I am yours. If you’re not welcome, I can’t be either,’ he asserted firmly. ‘And I wouldn’t <em>want</em> to be either.’</p><p>A strange, hitching sound startled out of the vocoder, and for a moment, the air froze in place as something small and fragile dipped up out of Vader's presence for a split second before diving back out of Luke's reach. ‘An… admirable sentiment, little one,’ he murmured eventually, still taking care to keep his tone low enough to avoid being overheard by the clones who were, Luke noticed, doing their damnedest <em>not</em> to pay attention to him and Vader. ‘But not a practical one. It will not do you any good to tie yourself so closely to one such as I.’</p><p>Luke shot a glare to the man and set his jaw. ‘Yeah?’ he said mutinously, ‘Watch me. Now come on, I want to find out what’s going on, and you’re coming with.’ Leaving no room for argument, Luke grabbed Vader's hand and began to haul the man along, grateful in the back of his mind that Vader seemed to be too stunned to protest.</p><p>Catching up with the clones again who seemed to be doing their level best not to start laughing at Luke and Vader for reasons Luke wasn’t all too sure about but that made something within Vader spark with equal amounts of embarrassment and ire. Rolling his eyes at the man, he shot the <em>vod'e</em> a stern look that thankfully worked to taper off the worst of the suppressed laughter.</p><p>‘Alright,’ he said, only releasing Vader's hand when he was sure the man wasn’t going to try to bolt again and setting his hands in his sides, ‘Now what?’</p><p>‘Just head through the door, sir,’ Hex told him, a rare glimmer of amusement in his voice as his eyes lit up. ‘You’ll know it when you see it.’</p><p>Shooting the Sergeant a raised eyebrow at the near non-answer, Luke shored up his resolve and nodded, only turning back to Vader one last time to jab a finger in his direction. ‘Don’t you dare bolt,’ he told the man, ‘I’ll know and I’ll be very upset with you if you leave me to the anoobas.’</p><p>He got the impression of a slow, bemused blink from the man as he eventually dipped his head in to a single nod. ‘I will not, Luke,’ he agreed eventually and the whispering sand in the back of his mind shivered with truth.</p><p>Satisfied that the man wouldn’t attempt to pull any more of the bullshit he’d been spouting earlier, Luke nodded firmly and turned back to the entrance of the mess hall, Boomer giving him a double thumbs up and a wide grin. Breathing deeply, he walked around the corner and—</p><p>
  <em>‘Surprise</em>
  <em>!’</em>
</p><p>A shockwave of sound slammed into him, and nearly sent him bolting as he registered a hundred, a thousand, a hundred-thousand voices all yelling at once and only resisting by the skin of his teeth. Then the sight in front of him registered.</p><p>
  <em>‘Welcome back, Luke!’</em>
</p><p>The whole mess hall, packed far beyond capacity and to the very brim with people, all looking in his direction and smiling wide, the very air silver and shining with joy and giddiness as Luke stared, gobsmacked, at the spectacle, a rousing sound coming up to greet him that he distantly registered as applause as he saw hands clapping wherever he looked. Tens of thousands of people, all of them Troopers, Engineers, or other Crewmates, and wherever he looked, he recognized people he knew. What—?</p><p>A laugh sounded off to his side and looking over he saw Erribas walk over to him with a rare, wide grin plastered on their face. ‘Welcome back, sir,’ the man said, for once forgoing their usual salute in favor of clapping a warm hand on Luke's shoulder. ‘As you can see, we’re glad to have you among us again.’</p><p>‘Erribas,’ he greeted, still halfway stunned by what he was seeing but slowly feeling the heavy, rousing emotions saturating the air infect his own mood, changing it into something bright and soaring. ‘What is the meaning of all… this?’ he asked, gesturing lightly to all the people gathered around, some of them clearly having climbed on top of the tables and into the elevated balconies until there were even people precariously hanging over the edge.</p><p>‘Well, what does it look like, sir!?’ someone yelled from the crowd, and Luke immediately picked out Rocko from the crowd, grinning as wide and mischievous as anything. ‘It’s a party!’</p><p>‘Party?’ he asked, feeling entirely dumbfounded. Did he forget an imperial holiday or something?</p><p>‘To celebrate your ass returning to keep this ship from sinking into abject misery and bad times!’ Gearbox called out as he strode out from the crowd with a shit-eating grin, a glass of something amber his hand that Luke, as his CO, probably should disapprove of while they were still technically on the clock. Or at least, he thought they were?</p><p>‘So, with some work from me and Hex and Erribas and a couple of favors from our good Lord Vader and the new Admiral, we arranged something.’ Gearbox continued.  ‘Consider this us saying “Thank fuck you’re back,”’ he finished blithely, gesturing with his glass before turning to the vast crowd behind him, <em>‘Ain’t that right lads!?’</em></p><p>A deafening roar of cheer and applause rose up again, nearly knocking Luke off his feet along with sending his head spinning from the sheer power of emotions he was feeling, filling him up with what felt like liquid starlight for all the power and sheer giddiness it contained and making him feel, for a moment, like he was on top of the world.</p><p>These people… They were here <em>for him.</em></p><p>To celebrate <em>him</em> returning to life within the Lady, and that was just—</p><p>Suns, that was just <em>so much.</em></p><p>And Luke didn’t quite know where to begin with all that, but he could try nonetheless.</p><p>He beamed as wide as he ever had and held up a hand to call for silence, his heart swelling when the cacophonous roar of celebratory sounds immediately began to die down until he was standing in near silence just moments later.</p><p>Stepping forward, Luke opened up his mind and presence to the thousands of people in front of him, and maybe he should have felt nervous about what he was about to do, but all he could think and feel were that there were <em>his people,</em> each and every one of them. And clearly, he was theirs as well. Any nerves that he might have felt washed away in the sheer power of the emotions of all present, unfettered and wild and <em>bright,</em> and for a moment, he felt invincible<em>.</em> With all eyes on him, Luke smiled wide and opened his mouth.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice clear and echoing as he projected it in a manner that he knew could echo for leagues across the salt flats, and would hopefully carry far enough here too. ‘All of you,’ he continued, looking around the sea of faces and smiling at each and everyone of them, everything bright and soaring and so, <em>so</em> grand as he slowly walked into the crowd, the people parting to make way before him.</p><p>‘I would say many a thing to all this, but, well…’ He shook his head with a beaming grin as he looked around the room, noting that there’d even been makeshift decorations put up all over the place. ‘Frankly speaking, I don’t know what to say,’ he confessed. ‘To put together all this, just to celebrate my return? It’s more than I know how to respond to.’ He turned his gaze back down and looked into the thousands of faces around him, thousands of different faces of all manner of colors and complexions looking back at him, each as unique as could be. ‘So thank you,’ he stated, voice echoing throughout the hall, unimpeded by the usual chatter he had thought nearly a part of the place, ‘Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,’ he finished, dipping his head into a small bow to the room at large.</p><p>‘Sir?’ a voice spoke from behind him, and turning around revealed Hex stepping forward with an unusually open expression on his face, a smile dancing around the corners of his mouth, and Luke abruptly remembered how the man had been practically glued to his screen, realizing now that he must have been organizing this. ‘If you’ll permit me to speak for a moment?’</p><p>Turning his full attention towards the Sergeant, Luke nodded with a smile as warm as he felt as he experienced the results of what the man must’ve done, his heart full of something indescribable as he felt the wealth of emotions around him and directed towards him. ‘Of course, Hex,’ he said with as much sincerity as he could manage. ‘By all means.’</p><p>Hex cleared his throat uncomfortably, but nodded. ‘I believe I speak for all of us, sir,’ he said, voice wavering only a little, and Luke belatedly realized that perhaps the reason Hex was such a quiet character was perhaps because he disliked the weight of attention on him from this many people, ‘When I say it should be <em>us</em> thanking <em>you.</em> I know that it must seem… odd to you, but—’ he huffed out a quiet laugh and shook his head, ‘I don’t think you will ever understand just how <em>much</em> you’ve done for us and are still doing for us, <em>Goran.’</em> He looked around at his brothers, sisters, and siblings gathered around and packed high ceiling to the ceiling. <em>‘All</em> of us.’</p><p>Murmurings of agreement rose up from the crowd, and some people yelled some incomprehensible phrases from the sidelines, but with a quick gesture from Luke that he still couldn’t believe was as effective as it was, the murmurings subsided again until he could hear his own voice once more.</p><p>Chuckling, Luke tilted his head to the side, regarding Hex and the swirl of emotions coming from him that filtered through the back of Luke's mind. ‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed, ‘But believe me when I say that I understand just how much work must have gone into arranging this.’ He too looked around at all the people gathered once more, drinking in as many faces and individual strands of emotion in the web that held him tight. ‘And how all of you showed… something extraordinary to me today by attending.’</p><p>Thousands of people. All here to welcome him back. He couldn’t even begin to say how close he was to tearing up. He’d had… doubts, a couple of times, these last few days. Wondering if he’d misread more interactions with people if he could have so severely misjudged how dangerous Ozzel was. But this?</p><p>This was real.</p><p>And he hadn’t expected it, and he’d <em>severely</em> misjudged just how <em>much</em> he apparently meant to all these people, underestimating them as well, and he couldn’t think of anything he had done to deserve <em>all this, </em>but—</p><p>But this was real. And everyone here had worked to make it so.</p><p>Sometimes Luke could truly believe that life could be unfair in all the most wonderful ways.</p><p>Wiping away the building tears at the corners of his eyes with a quick motion, Luke beamed towards Hex. ‘So no,’ he concluded, ‘Maybe I don’t understand. But Suns, that doesn’t mean that this isn’t something that will stay with me for years to come.’ He looked back towards the crowd, catching as many eyes as possible. ‘Or that this doesn’t mean something incredible to me.’</p><p>It did too. He could already tell that this was a memory he wouldn’t easily forget.</p><p>‘Alright, alright,’ Gearbox cut in, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief that had more than one machine oil stain. ‘Cut it out before the waterworks begin, sir,’ the clone grumbled, ‘It’s supposed to be a moment for getting drunk with the lads and making ill-advised decisions, not a damn teary-eyed heart-to-heart.’</p><p>‘You’re the one crying, old man!’ Rocko called back, before turning to Luke. ‘The old coot’s got a point though, sir. Can we start breaking out the <em>tihaar </em>or what?’</p><p>Luke barked out a laugh and shook his head in amusement. ‘Right!’ he agreed, addressing the crowd at large, projecting his voice loud and sonorous again. ‘Alright, people!’ he called out, voice ringing out bright and true along the high ceilings and arching walls,<em> ‘Let’s get this party started!’</em></p><p>A thunderous cheer went up as tens of thousands of people raised their glasses in a salute, the party kicking off properly as someone got a hold of the PA sound system, blasting the galaxy’s latest hits over the speaker system. As the opening riff of an electric guitar echoed through the mess-hall-turned-party-central, the almost stage-like space that the crowd had granted to Luke began to close up, and before he knew it, he’d been hoisted onto the shoulders of two Troopers, Bellow and Creek, and was towering over the sea of heads and voices.</p><p>‘To the Lady’s Sun!’ someone yelled, and before Luke could begin to ask who <em>that</em> was, the sentiment echoed throughout the crowd as many a glass raised in a toast.</p><p>‘To the Lady’s Sun!’ the answering cries came, and Luke realized with a flush of heat that stained his cheeks red that they were toasting to <em>him.</em> The Lady’s Sun… since when had they started calling him that?</p><p>He hardly got the time to dwell on it as he was promptly taken around the mess hall in what he could almost call a parade as Bellow and Creek carried him in a long, twisting procession through the crowds. The progress was slow and cumbersome as people clustered around them, even after a couple of other Troopers took the task of regulating the crowds upon themselves, each intent on greeting Luke.</p><p>It seemed everyone wanted to give him a handshake, and while Luke couldn’t properly shake them all even if he tried, when he held out his hands, people seemed more than content just touching their own to his for however long they could manage until they were pushed out of their spot or the Troopers passed them by. Even with that there wasn’t enough space, and hands gently ghosted along his forearms and what parts of his legs they could touch in a near-reverent act that Luke didn’t quite understand but noticed nonetheless.</p><p>The whispers in the back of his mind almost sounded like laughter as he puzzled over the sheer ocean of emotions that seemed to surround their little procession, the people quieting down from the loud, cacophonous sounds of the party to mere murmurings as they approached Luke, each attempting to get close enough to touch him, if only for a moment. There was something strangely adoring, and yet respectful about the whole affair that left Luke feeling humbled at the realization that this is what people could feel about him.</p><p>He met thousands of people that way, and in the end, though he tried his damnedest, he thought he might not have memorized every face that had looked up to him with varying degrees of shining awe and wonder as they reached out to touch the tips of their fingers to his palms, his wrists, his forearms, regardless of whether it was organic or not. He tried though, he really did, and he asked for names to put to the faces whenever he could, taking the hushed whispers of Kaala, Farell, Uuk’tar, Winni, Kallem, Orotos, Jatrim, and so many others and matching them to the people that had spoken them.</p><p>And every time he told them it was a pleasure meeting them, and that he’d remember them, there was a thrum of <em>something</em> in the air that wove through the back of his mind like wind through sand. Something that he couldn’t quite name, but that felt— that felt so much like what he felt when he’d taken a part in Freedom rites, and the Elder officiating had called on Keshtra, mirrored. He wasn’t certain <em>why</em> it felt mirrored, or even how he could tell, but it did. And that felt… important to him. In a way he couldn’t quite express yet. It felt like something familiar and foreign at the same time.</p><p>It felt powerful.</p><p>It felt like a promise.</p><p>More and more people gathered around them, and the pace of the Troopers slowed down to a crawl, even as several more of the <em>vod’e</em> joined the first in order to try to make some semblance of order out of the droves of people. It proved to be a futile endeavor, and Luke wouldn’t have been able to bring out a single word beyond a greeting if you’d held a blaster to his head as he watched the sea of people around him, all reaching out to greet him. Thousands of hands, tens of thousands of people, and joy that hung as thick in the air as molasses.</p><p>Suns, what had he ever <em>done</em> to deserve this kind of treatment?</p><p><a id="back21" name="back21"></a><em>‘Osik,’</em> <a href="#note21"><sup>[21]</sup></a> one of the Troopers cursed over the murmuring sound of the crowd as they futilely tried to make a path for Bellow and Creek. Looking down revealed that Grace had joined the others trying to reigning in the crowds. ‘We’re never gonna get anywhere like this,’ he muttered, and Luke had to agree as he saw the sheer number of people gathered around.</p><p>Grinning down at the Trooper as he greeted another dozen people, Luke allowed a chuckle to slip out of his mouth. ‘Would that really be so bad, Grace?’ he asked with a slightly teasing lilt, ‘It seems to be going well so far.’</p><p>The Trooper shot a wry look towards Luke and tipped his head. ‘Sure, but aren’t you gonna want to join the party eventually, sir?’ Grace asked him with a significant look. ‘I don’t think you’ll be able to enjoy much with everyone clustered around like <em>this,’</em> he noted with a sweeping gesture towards the sea of people stretching out around them on all sides.</p><p>Luke laughed delightedly, as bright and true as his entire being seemed to sing with everything around him, Grace’s face softening as the worry lines seemed to melt away from his face as easy as breathing, ‘I think I’m fine with that, Grace,’ he told the man, sincerity in every word as he grinned wide at all the people he had yet to greet. ‘As long as there are people who want to meet me, I’m more than willing to meet them as well.’</p><p>Grace huffed out a laugh as he glanced around the crowds. ‘Even with this kind of crowd, sir?’ he asked as he looked out over the sheer number of people still drawing closer and attempting to reach out to touch his hands and arms in greeting.</p><p>Luke beamed at the man as he met Bant, Ulli’u, Artus, Mesha, Vartok, and Quirri, greeting them all in turn and memorizing their faces as best he could. ‘Of course!’ he responded, letting them all touch their fingers and palms to whatever part of his arms they could reach. ‘As long as Bellow and Creek are okay with it, I want to meet everyone here,’ he stated, looking down towards the two Troopers still carrying him on their shoulders.</p><p>‘You guys doing okay?’ he asked, feeling some concern leaking through. They <em>had</em> been walking with him on his shoulders for a long time already, and although they had been the ones to pick him up, he probably still should have checked in sooner than this, even if he couldn’t feel any distress or discomfort from them.</p><p>Bellow laughed a deep chuckle that jostled Luke slightly. ‘Not to worry, sir,’ the Trooper reassured him, ‘We can barely feel your weight at all. I’m pretty sure that you know that this armor is made for tougher things than carrying a slip like you around.’</p><p>‘Too right,’ Creek agreed with a nod. ‘We can keep going for as long as needed, sir, and I’m pretty sure you’ll be more tired by the time we’re done than we are.’</p><p>Luke grinned wide, and turned his gaze back ahead to the countless people still waiting. ‘Well alright then!’ he declared, excitement returning in full force. ‘Let’s continue on, there’s still so many more names to learn!’</p><p>The Troopers laughed, and Rocko shook her head as she funneled three dozen more people into the proper positions so they would be able to meet Luke without having to talk to his back. ‘Still don’t know how you’re planning on remembering all of them, sir,’ she noted. ‘I think I lost track right about the beginning and haven’t found it back since.’</p><p>Luke furrowed his brow as he gave her a confused look. ‘I just… remember them,’ he said slowly. ‘I might have missed a few, but generally I remember them.’</p><p>Rocko’s eyes flew wide as she glanced back towards him, and he felt Bellow and Creek stiffen slightly under him. ‘You mean you <em>actually remember them?’</em> she asked in a hushed tone, something sparking to life in the air. <em>‘All of them?’</em></p><p>Luke pursed his lips as he received the names of Rasalt, Corto, Nilla, Quir, Fass, and Yem, memorizing their faces with each name spoken and greeting them all back. ‘I think I might not remember a couple,’ he admitted quietly, as he spoke to Rocko, ‘I’ve never met this many people in one go before. But most of them? Of course,’ he said, smiling slightly to the gobsmacked woman, ‘I did promise to remember them, didn’t I?’</p><p>Rocko opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, and while he waited for her or the other Troopers to say something, he met Resslim, Hachma, Virrit, Xaltor, Bachas, and Iris, each touching their own hand to his. When one of the Troopers finally spoke again, Luke was nearly surprised to hear Grace take over the conversation with a single sentence.</p><p>‘You’re kinda incredible, sir,’ the man muttered as he directed yet another dozen people to Luke in a manner that wouldn’t trample anyone while allowing Bellow and Creek to make marginal progress. ‘Aren’t you?’</p><p>Luke blinked in surprise and nearly missed Faralt’s name. ‘I mean, I don’t think so?’ he said. ‘Why?’</p><p>‘Never mind,’ Grace said with a grin that spoke of fondness. ‘I think there’s another couple of people waiting to meet you, sir.’</p><p>Knowing that Grace was blatantly attempting to change the subject but not feeling much like protesting it, Luke allowed himself to get distracted with the thousands of introductions and names once more.</p><p>He didn’t know how much time passed like that, carried around in an ever-growing procession of people, and if he was honest, he didn’t care to know. To meet so many new faces and names, the air saturated with a tangle of powerful emotions that seemed to weave around him like a focal point… it was an experience Luke could only describe as ethereal, his mind alight with equal parts nova and nebula of lights as they proceeded onwards.</p><p>At several points they passed along the balconies, and Luke looked up in breathless wonderment as people threw down confetti, streamers, and even paper flowers. Catching a wreath of those flowers as it was tossed his way from up high, Luke smiled wide as he marveled over the rich, royal blue of the flowers edged with gold painted details, and the delicate yet strong quality of the paper the flowers were made of.</p><p>‘It’s a crown, sir!’ Rocko called to him while managing a group of upcoming people who had managed to push to the front of the crowd. ‘Try wearing it!’</p><p>Flipping the wreath in his hands as he looked at it with a new eye, he looked over the crowd and noticed something. People caught the flowers raining down from the balconies and presented them to each other, wearing them behind their ears or sticking one in their hair, but none of them wore crowns, as Rocko had called them, and none matched the color of his own.</p><p>‘Why is no one else wearing a crown?’ he called back, wondering what the deal there was.</p><p>‘Well, you’re the guest of honor, aren’t you?’ Rocko told him, directing the people towards him. ‘Just wear it, sir, I know for a fact that Tinker and her squad spent a lot of time on that!’</p><p>Still feeling like he was filled with liquid starlight and more than a little giddy, Luke couldn’t see what harm it would do and placed the crown of blue and gold paper flowers on his head with brilliant grin. The paper was delicate enough that he hardly even noticed it once it fitted in place, and snug enough that it wouldn’t just fall off.</p><p>Though the fact that people cheered and clapped when he put it on made him think that perhaps he’d played straight into someone’s hand. Ah well. It clearly made them happy, and if Luke was honest with himself, the flowers made him happy as well.</p><p>More and more flowers and confetti and streamers were thrown down as they passed the balconies, and Luke was fairly sure that he had more than one flower stuck in his hair that wasn’t a part of the crown. None of that mattered when they finally returned back to the beginning of their long, <em>long</em> procession around the mess hall and Luke spotted a familiar dark figure standing unobtrusively near the support pillar of one of the balconies.</p><p>Looking over the sea of people, Luke beamed wide as he realized that <em>Vader had stayed.</em> Red lenses looked back at him, and for a moment, Luke could feel the familiar starless night of Vader brush up against his mind, warm and heavy with a deep, golden pride that shone like moonlight, the mask dipping into a shallow bow of his head that felt so sincere Luke hardly knew how to respond.</p><p>Well, that wasn’t entirely true.</p><p>Cheeks hurting with just how wide he was smiling, he tapped Bellow and Creek on the shoulder to get their attention.</p><p>‘Yes, sir?’ Creek asked, looking up. ‘You getting tired?’</p><p>Luke chuckled and shook his head. ‘No, but I spotted someone I’d like to go to. Would you please put me down so I can get to them?’</p><p>Creek looked around the crowd before looking back to Luke, pulling a face. ‘You sure about that, sir? No offense meant, but I’m not certain that you wouldn’t get squished. This crowd means well, but there’s still thousands of them, and only one you.’</p><p>‘Creek’s right,’ Bellow piped up, scanning the crowd as well, ‘Just tell us where to go, sir, and we’ll take you there.’</p><p>Conceding the point, Luke decided to follow the clones’ lead in this one. ‘Alright,’ he agreed, ‘They’re over by that support pillar there, think you can make it?’</p><p>Bellow squinted in the direction Luke was pointing, angling his head a bit up to get a better read on the direction from where they were, down in the crowds, before nodding. ‘You got it, sir. You catch the drift, Creek?’</p><p>‘Sure did,’ the other Trooper agreed. ‘Did you all?’ he asked, projecting his voice just a bit louder to the other Troopers managing the crowds.</p><p>‘Copy!’ Rocko called back, agreement from the others echoing hers as well. ‘We’ll make a path!’</p><p>With that, in a move that warmed Luke to the core, the Troopers collectively changed course, heading for the pillar, Luke still greeting as many people as he could while the progress was made.</p><p>Dozens of greetings and many shuffled paces later, they finally broke through into what Luke always thought of as Vader's little bubble of prickly intimidation. The people melted away in front of them, and the Troopers came to an abrupt halt as they finally must have seen who Luke wanted to head for.</p><p>‘Ah,’ Creek said flatly as his eyes locked onto the towering black figure of Vader standing idly at the foot of the support pillar. ‘Right.’</p><p>‘Should’ve seen that one coming,’ Rocko agreed with a nod.</p><p>Not understanding in the slightest what the Troopers were on about, but sensing a fission of discomfort shiver into the air, Luke decided to cut to the chase and gently tapped Bellow and Creek on the shoulder again. ‘Put me down, please?’ he asked again, ‘I would like to go talk to him.’</p><p>Creek snapped back to the present with a short noise of realization while Bellow nodded. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘Down you go, sir. Creek, pay attention.’</p><p>‘I got it, I got it,’ Creek responded while both Troopers carefully knelt down in order to let Luke hop off with minimal hassle.</p><p>Standing on his own two feet again, Luke looked back towards them and dipped his head in gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ he said with as much warmth as he could muster. ‘Both of you.’</p><p>Bellow and Creek straightened up out of their kneel, Creek clapping him on the shoulder while Bellow grinned. ‘It’s no issue, sir,’ he said. ‘It was an honor, in fact.’</p><p>‘Just let us know if you need a ride again for this kind of thing,’ Creek agreed. ‘We’ll be more than happy to help out.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘It wouldn’t do to let our <em>Goran</em> get squished, after all.’</p><p>Luke rolled his eyes, but grinned back. ‘Noted,’ he said easily, ‘Thank you, again.’ He took a step back so he could address all the Troopers that had been a part of his impromptu procession around the mess hall. ‘Thank all of you,’ he repeated with a warm smile. ‘Now please, excuse me while I got talk to Vader for a bit.’</p><p>‘Of course, sir,’ Grace said, dipping his head. ‘Call on us if needed, alright?’</p><p>‘I will,’ Luke promised. ‘Now please, go enjoy the party!’</p><p>Rocko snorted and attempted to ruffle his hair, Luke barely ducking to avoid her hand with a mock-glare that was promptly ruined by his grin. ‘Already was, thank you very much, sir,’ she sniffed, ‘But you don’t have to tell me twice.’ She grabbed Grace and Creek by the arm, promptly hauling them away. ‘Alright, boys, let’s get us some of that <em>tihaar!’</em> And with that, she disappeared back into the crowd, the rest of the Troopers following behind her.</p><p>Shaking his head with a grin, Luke turned back, seeing Vader already come to approach him. ‘Hey,’ he greeted his Home. ‘You stayed.’</p><p>‘As I said I would,’ Vader agreed placidly.</p><p>Luke took up his place at the man’s side and gently bumped into him. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered, ‘That means a lot.’</p><p>‘It was no hardship,’ Vader rumbled back. ‘And you seem to have had a grand time of it,’ he noted, gently stroking a finger along the paper blooms still in Luke's hair.</p><p>Luke beamed as he looked out over the thrumming crowds. ‘A great time,’ he agreed, ‘I’ve never met this many people before, and they all wanted to meet <em>me</em> as well.’ He breathed in deeply, taking in the air still shot through with silver and stars. ‘Is it always like this?’ he asked quietly.</p><p>‘Like what, little one?’ Vader rumbled back just as quietly.</p><p>‘Just…’ Luke struggled to find the words, his tongue failing to grasp the sheer immensity that was hundreds of thousands of people celebrating at once. ‘This… <em>lively,’</em> he tried, ‘Whenever there is a party like this?’</p><p>Vader rumbled out a staticky chuckled that shook his shoulder lightly. ‘I would not know, little star,’ he told Luke, ‘As this is the first time this has ever happened as far as I recall.’</p><p>Luke blinked. ‘The first time?’</p><p>‘Indeed,’ Vader confirmed easily, looking out over the crowds, confetti and flowers still raining down, a couple find their resting place on his head, shoulders, and in the folds of his mantle, coloring beautifully against the black. ‘As far as I am aware—and there is no manner in which I could <em>not</em> be—this is the very first time something like this has ever occurred aboard the Lady on this scale,’ Vader continued, and Luke could hardly believe what he was hearing even as Vader spoke clearly, the man tilting his head slightly to glance down to where Luke was gaping at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. ‘It seems that you are something truly unique indeed, little one,’ he finished, the air filled with warmth and certainty.</p><p>‘I— I—’ Luke stammered, struggling to process the implications of that statement.</p><p>This was the first time this had happened aboard the Lady.</p><p>This was <em>the first time</em> this was happening aboard the Lady, and it was because it was in Luke's honor.</p><p>He— he absolutely did not know what to do with that information.</p><p>Still reeling from the second knock to his understanding of the Lady he had received today, Luke nearly missed Vader laughing quietly. ‘Yes,’ he agreed amusedly to Luke's incoherent stammering, ‘You. <em>You</em> are the one for who they all came together today, little one.’ And Luke followed his gaze as he looked out over the crowd that was larger than he could ever even remember <em>imagining.</em> Confetti and flowers, music and food. Apparently, all of this was for the first time.</p><p>And it was for <em>him.</em></p><p>He couldn’t wrap his head around that, even if he tried.</p><p>‘Why?’ he asked softly, feeling the question echo through his very core as he looked out over the hall. ‘Why me?’</p><p>And this time Vader truly did laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement as something light poked a pinprick of light levity in his starless night. <em>‘Oh, Luke,’</em> he murmured, and Luke shot him a questioning look at the fondly knowing tone in which that was said.</p><p>‘It is because you were kind to them, little one,’ Vader answered at last. ‘It is because you listened to them. It is because you worked for months on end to ensure their safety while asking for nothing. It is because of a million reasons and one.’ Red lenses turned to Luke, the lights and falling flowers of the party reflected in them. ‘It is because you are you, Luke,’ Vader told him gently in a sentence that made no sense to Luke at all, ‘And they thank you for it.’</p><p>He— he didn’t know what to say to that. Staring wide eyed into the red lenses that rested on him with such indescribable fondness, Luke was truly struck speechless as he realized the very beginning of what this all truly meant. Shaking his head slowly as he tore his eyes away and back onto the crowd, he opened and closed his mouth a few times without any sound leaving.</p><p>‘I— I have no words,’ he admitted at last, when every everything he could think to say to that came up horrifically inadequate at telling Vader just how much he was <em>feeling</em> at all this.</p><p>‘Then say nothing,’ Vader advised, looking out over the sea of faces rained on by flowers. ‘Simply think. Feel. You need not explain yourself to me.’</p><p>And that— that struck something in Luke.</p><p>He had always needed to explain himself to someone. To everyone. Explain how he knew things, explain how he felt things, explain the how and the what that he couldn’t because he simply <em>knew</em> and <em>felt.</em></p><p>But here he didn’t need to. And he somehow got the feeling that right here, right now, with his mind open and filled with starlight, Vader would understand no matter if he spoke or not. He decided to trust that feeling.</p><p>So he closed his eyes, and simply thought and felt.</p><p>A sea of faces, ghostly gentle touches along his hands and forearms, the rain of paper flowers in colors that <em>astounded</em> Luke, the thrumming of the air with something <em>more…</em></p><p>And throughout it all, there was a quiet, starless night, wrapped around him like a krayt around its eggs, basking and warm.</p><p>Smiling bright, Luke opened his eyes and looked up to the rain of flowers, tracking their fall and glancing sideways to Vader, both of them still standing in the middle of the rain, colorful constructs of paper clinging to his Home’s shoulders and mantle in an elegant display of color that Luke found suited him wonderfully well. For all the man’s protesting earlier on, Luke thought that perhaps he had never seen anywhere where his mentor belonged more; here, amongst his people, every soul a shining star on the tapestry of his endless night.</p><p>‘You know?’ he said quietly, thoughts still light like the dancing paper constructs that fluttered through the air, ‘You were wrong about one thing.’</p><p>Vader shifted lightly, the air around him still content and warm. ‘Oh?’ he hummed. ‘And what might that be, little one?’</p><p>‘You said you wouldn’t be welcomed here,’ Luke stated quietly, confidently, ‘But I know that you were wrong. You say this party is in honor of me. That it was held for and because of me.’ He looked towards Vader, utter calm washing over him as he spoke the next words, shining with truth. ‘You are my Home,’ he murmured quietly. ‘And I am yours. Where you are welcome, I am, and where I am welcome, you are. That is the Law of the Desert,’ he recited in all confidence. ‘And here I am welcome. Thus, you are too.’ He looked out over the crowd again, countless faces laughing and singing and smiling as colorful bits of paper clung to their hair and clothes. ‘I can’t think of a statement more wrong than to deny that as truth.’</p><p>Vader was silent for a long while, a storm of emotions whipping up at Luke's side. He kept looking at the celebration, allowing Vader his time to work out what <em>he</em> felt and knew. At last, the man huffed out a quiet noise, and the tempest settled into a resigned amusement and satisfied contentment shot through with pride.</p><p>‘Well,’ he murmured quietly, resting a hand on Luke's shoulder that Luke happily nudged into, ‘I suppose it would be the height of foolishness to argue with such sound logic.’</p><p>Luke smiled brightly. ‘It would indeed,’ he agreed. ‘So, I suggest you don’t and that we simply enjoy the festival instead. I don’t doubt that if Gearbox was a part of the planning of this thing, this party has far from reached its peak, and I want to be there when it happens.’</p><p>Vader barked out a laugh that rumbled in static, and Luke grinned at the sound. ‘That, little one,’ the vocoder rumbled in deep amusement, ‘Sounds like a plan indeed.’</p><p>‘Good,’ Luke said brightly, ‘Because I was gonna drag you along anyway whether you agreed or not.’</p><p>More laughter followed those words, and Luke's own joy joined Vader's as it spiraled through the silver misted air, dipping and diving between all the other thousands of strands of emotion in an infectious dance that Luke dearly hoped wouldn’t end any time soon.</p><p>They could always go explore the rest of the party later, find out where the Commanders and Sergeants had ended up, celebrate a bit more of life and living.</p><p>But for now, he and Vader stood side by side in a rain of paper flowers as thousands of souls thrummed around them in simple, uncomplicated joy.</p><p>For now, there was time for the both of them to simply bask in each other’s presence before returning to interacting with other people again.</p><p>For now, they were simply here, and for a brief moment of time, everything felt like it was made of liquid starlight, and the air around them was warm with contentment and love.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
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<a id="note21" name="note21"></a>[21] <em>Osik:</em> translates as “Shit” in mando’a. <sup><a href="#back21">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah, finally some nice things for our boy. He went through the wringer, I'll admit, but several months later, here we are, standing triumphant. And what a day it is for such a chapter, with various triumphs being celebrated all over the world by various religions. And in honor of the month April and the start of spring, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ">I do have an announcement to make</a>, curtesy of the Team. </p><p>But in any case, whatever you celebrate or nothing at all, let me wish you a brilliant start to your spring, and I'll see you all next Sunday. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. But Here's The Heart Of It, Dear One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's time for Darth Vader's perspective on the party and with what is in store for him, all I can say is this: Lights! Camera! <i>Action!</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>Woaaaohohoh! Let's rock 'n roll!</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Welcome back, ladies gents, and honors! Who is ready!? Who is ready for this chapter, my one beloved, my labor of love, my magnum opus of this story!? It has everything: Songs! Music! Dance! And a realizations that will knock your socks clean off!</p><p>So without further ado, without further delay, let's jump right into it! <i>Enjoy!</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thousands of souls shone brightly in a maelstrom of Force, and Darth Vader, for the first time in longer than he could remember, felt perfectly at ease. Elation, reverence, joy, and sheer euphoria dappled the shining celebration with a force that even his own presence couldn’t dampen.</p><p>All throughout the celebration he hadn’t felt more than temporary, fleeting whispers of fear wherever he went, and it left the Dark oddly quiet and still in a manner that wasn’t… wholly objectionable. It would be back later, he knew, snarling and burning and <em>powerful.</em> But for now, it barely shifted, and when it did, it was in lazy, languid rolls that felt more akin to a resting beast blinking in curiosity than any kind of alertness. It left him feeling odd, but… he didn’t mind it.</p><p>Not if it meant taking a part in this.</p><p>The party—though in truth, it was far more akin to a festival—was in full swing, with revelry and laughter all around. People were dancing, singing, enjoying food and drink, and throughout it all, not once did the atmosphere suffer much more than a dent from his presence. Dents that were quickly smoothed out by the shining star at his side.</p><p>Glancing down surreptitiously to where the little star was still staring in wonderment at the festivities, he let a soft smile overtake his face as he saw the paper blooms still resting in Luke's hair. He knew that much work had gone into the spectacle they were both watching. The rain of flowers alone had taken more than one forwarded approval request for the necessary paper from the Quartermasters and thousands of people organizing to learn how to cut and fold the flowers until they had the quantity necessary. The crown Luke was wearing had been meticulously designed and toiled over by a team of five Troopers, every flower hand crafted and painted. And that was <em>just</em> the flowers.</p><p>Tens of thousands of people had banded together in the last week once the news of the conspiracy had circulated, for comfort, solidarity, and morale. When the idea had been floated in those circles to organize something for Luke in order to show that the sentiment held by the conspiracy was far from a universal one, the idea had near-instantly gained a life of its own.</p><p>A small event had grown into a party, had grown into a celebration, had grown into a festival that needed paperwork filed for the permissions necessary to commandeer one of the mess halls. A squad of people had become a hundred, a thousand, finally becoming a crowd so large that last Vader had checked, there were over three-hundred <em>thousand</em> people on the guest list. He hadn’t lied to Luke when he had never seen anything like it.</p><p>As far as he was aware, there was no kind of precedent within the entirety of the Imperial Armed Forces for a gathering of this size that was neither mandatory nor state sanctioned. Never mind organized solely by the active personnel themselves in a matter of days.</p><p>And it was all for one child.</p><p>The little star that had shone with nothing less than utter joy, wonder, euphoria, and awe this entire time as they meandered through the celebrations at a calm pace after Luke had completed his procession around the festival. A procession that still filled Vader with nothing but sheer pride whenever he thought back to it.</p><p>Luke, uncharacteristically towering over everyone else as he was carried on hands and shoulders around the room in a procession  akin to a parade, greeting and talking to thousands of the party guests, acknowledging them as they wordlessly pledged themselves to him with names and touches. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the little star had cemented something powerful in those moments, the fervent adoration and loyalty of the crowd building into a fever pitch as the procession progressed along its path.</p><p>If his little star hadn’t built a legend before, he certainly had now. There was being popular and well-liked, and then there was… this.</p><p>And yet, as he looked at Luke, meandering by his side through the masses and taking everything in, he thought that the child might still not have realized the sheer extent to which he was the subject of near-worship by much of the Lady’s population. Oh, there was awe and a quiet, stunned realization during the moments where it seemed to sink in that this was all <em>for him,</em> but there was none of the expected emotions that he might have expected to see.</p><p>Well, it would hardly be the first time that his Home had managed to surprise him.</p><p>He sighed quietly in abject fondness as Luke made a noise of delight as he saw something that caught his eye, and looking over revealed that droves of people were flocking around what appeared to be a collection of makeshift stages where bands had gathered with all manner of instruments. With a signal to a Trooper standing on a small podium of sound equipment that had been rigged up to the PA system, the music started to die down.</p><p>Looking around them, Vader concluded that they were near the back of the mess hall, where the kitchens had been temporarily converted into distributing festival foods cooked up from all manner of cultures and drinks were served, of which he thought at least half might be moonshine brewed by the Troopers themselves. People around them were enjoying various greasy and fried foods that were no doubt manufactured with more than a few contraband ingredients, but he could hardly bring himself to care.</p><p>Morale was soaring higher than he had ever felt it, and without a doubt, Luke's return to the Lady’s public life would bolster his people for a long time to come, the festival releasing all manner of tensions and terrors that had built up amongst the lower ranks that, admittedly, he himself had regretfully been a large contributor to.</p><p>Fear made for a good-enough motivator to those who would listen to nothing else, as he had often found with the incompetents that generally dared call themselves Commanding Officers whenever he needed to bring them back in line from whatever cursed scheme they had cooked up for their own personal glory. But it was inefficient and simply redundant when it came to motivating people who <em>did</em> do their duties, and often did them well. The lower ranks benefitted from any terror he induced about as much as the general populace of the outer rim did Hutts; none, and he had felt a small measure of concern whenever he had thought on the potential long-term impacts upon the crew.  </p><p>To see it melt away into celebration and adoration with every round his little star had made was a relief to say the least.</p><p>And now, the atmosphere was apparently ripe for music.</p><p>Following Luke's lead as he made a beeline for the makeshift stages, delight blooming in the Force iridescent and bright, he wondered what the little star was up to.</p><p>Luke came to a halt in front of the largest of the dozen or so stages dotting the area they had been set up in, the crowds parting around them as soon as they noticed they were there to grant them space, and Vader took note of what was happening around them.</p><p>On every stage consisting of what seemed to be layers of emergency patch walls requisitioned from the hangars balanced on groups of tables, various Crewmates and Troopers began to gather, sorting themselves onto each stage not by their designations, or by the instruments they seemed to play, but by what seemed to be a well-worn order that only they understood. An order he suspected were perhaps the members of the various music clubs aboard the Lady grouping together with their own players. Each stage containing a whole host of percussion, wind, and string instruments, both electric and acoustic, in what seemed to be various kinds of bass, tenor, and soprano ranges if he could judge them by size.</p><p>He was promptly proven right when the musicians started testing their instruments and a cacophony of sound arose. Promptly hurrying to Luke's side as he directed the Dark to muffle the sound around them, laid a hand on the little star’s shoulder as he once more took up position next to him, receiving a delighted glance in return that filled him with warmth, before both of them went back to watching the musicians, Vader slowly releasing his hold on the sound around them as the musicians finished their testing.</p><p>Movements shining with determination caught his attention from the side, and a band of people in a variety of uniforms approached the stage, one of whom Vader recognized as the Bandmaster of the military band stationed on the Lady.</p><p>Marching forward in full dress uniform was Director Amina Astra. It seemed she had deigned to fulfill her usual role in a more casual setting, if her appearance and determined march towards the center stage was any indication. The figures accompanying her were more of a mystery though, and he wondered what their function would be.</p><p>Brushing up against their presence with his own revealed the same mentality as that of Director Astra though, and he drew his presence away once more when the first shivers began to show themselves in the natural shielding of the people. A mentality whose purpose became clear once they arranged themselves on the stage, and he abruptly realized that he was looking at the choir of the performance to come.</p><p>With loud clicks that echoed through the mess hall, bright spotlights shone down on the performers as the lights around the back of the mess hall dimmed down slightly, and looking up revealed that someone had raided the engineering supplies for over a dozen of the replacement mist lights of the AT-AT walkers, repurposed into makeshift spotlights. Sheet music flickered into existence across hundreds of miniature holoprojectors on the stage, lighting up the stages in what must’ve been a kaleidoscope of colors, the musicians reading through the notes that had appeared in front of them. Shaking his head lightly, he remembered that it never did well to underestimate the creativity of the common soldier when the situation called for it.</p><p>Settling into a comfortable parade rest, he watched in amusement as Luke's eyes lit up at the prospect of music. ‘It seems you are enjoying this quite a bit, little one,’ he murmured lowly, taking advantage of the small measure of personal space granted to them by the crowds around them to not be overheard.</p><p>‘It’s so much like home,’ Luke murmured back, still smiling wide as he watched the performers set up on central stage, ‘The party, I mean. Even if there were never this many people, they remind me of the festivals held back on Tatooine with all the music and food and dancing.’</p><p>Freezing for just a split second at the reminder of their shared origin, he hummed lightly as he looked around the place with new eyes, attempting to draw comparison between the festival organized by the personnel of the Lady to celebrate Luke's recovery and the vague, dusted memories of the festivals he remembered from… before. He and his Mother had never been able to join much of society in the same manner that… their… Free Siblings had been able to, but festivals were large and present enough that their commotion often reached a small portion of the slaves as well, even in their chains. He and his Mother had been a part of that category, and the more he thought on it, the more he remembered.</p><p>Rare sweet and savory treats that were easily gifted to the young and the chained even as the adults and the Free had to pay. Music and dance that thundered in his blood and rang through his mind like the Force had so often done as well, teaching him control and to listen before he even knew what it was. Performances of acrobatics and slights of hand by people his Mother had whispered to him were runners, showing off their skillsets in full sight of the Masters under the cover of celebrating festivities and colored masks, a veiled taunt that had seemed impossibly courageous to his young mind.</p><p>Yes, he… remembered.</p><p>And the more his memories resurfaced and the more he looked around, the more he realized his ease was a <em>familiar</em> ease.</p><p>Soft laughter and fondness rung out from beside him, and looking down into sparkling eyes that were smiling back up at him, he realized he had most likely been silent for long enough that the little star could easily guess his thought process.</p><p>Luke’s significant look before turning back to the stage quickly confirmed this. ‘It seems like you remembered something. How about that,’ he muttered with a small smile, the Force ringing with satisfaction that abruptly clued him in that Luke had him right where he wanted him.</p><p>Huffing out a soft indignant sound as he gently tapped the little star on the head in reprimand, receiving only more amusement in return, he resigned himself to having been played like a fiddle by the child. ‘It is… familiar enough,’ he admitted reluctantly, knowing that whether he said anything or not, it would confirm it to the little star either way. And it wasn’t like he would <em>lie</em> to Luke.</p><p>Something that was worth it when it earned him a bright smile before attention was directed back to the center stage as Director Astra tapped her baton against the conducting stand to draw the attention towards her, raising her hand to signal the imminent beginning.</p><p>On the downwards stroke, the first booming notes sounded from all around them, lively and light, the woodwind instruments and strings reigning over the opening with only the occasional interjection of deep, thundering beats from the drums. The brass sectioned joined in, and suddenly the piece was rising, soaring, ever higher, until the music abruptly cut off and—</p><p>
  <em>‘Far into the black of void.’</em>
</p><p>The chorus began. Deep, rumbling, reverberating through the air.</p><p><em>‘See the planets shine bright on the morning light,’</em> the counterpoint singers began, higher and faster than the bass singers, the drums underscoring their voices on the cue of the Director as something began to stir in the Force. Something shining.  </p><p><em>‘Far into the black of void,’</em> the bass singers boomed again, the flutes accompanying them in high, quick notes.</p><p><em>‘We know there is not an end in sight.’</em> The soprano strings joined in, sharp, shuddering, and dramatic, the musicians quite clearly knew what they were doing when they brought the notes out of their strings. He decided he rather liked the sound of it.</p><p><em>‘From the far nebulas to the inner core.’</em> The brass section joined in again, as quiet as they could be while lifting up the notes of the bass singers and awakening something even further in the Force that felt golden and shimmering. And it came from right beside him.  </p><p><em>‘Over bloody battlefields dripping in bloodied hearts and gore,’</em> came the response of the higher counterpoint, the Director making a wide, sweeping gesture as the orchestra at large, and the music promptly swelled as acoustics and electrics rose to the challenge as one while Vader looked down fondly at the little star that was glowing with joy and adoration by his side as he regarded the music and song around him.</p><p><em>‘We stand as one, Corps to Corps!’</em> both sections bellowed as one, the air shaking with the force of their voices as Vader watched Luke grin wide and bright, that same open and brilliant focus starting to emerge as it had just a few nights ago, when the little star had played his heart out on an instrument much like the musicians around them were doing now. Yet none of them could hold a candle to Luke's fervent passion while playing his favorite music piece.</p><p>‘You seem to be enjoying yourself, little one,’ he muttered lowly, just loud enough to be able to be heard over the clashing of cymbals and the pounding of the drums.</p><p>Luke's head rapidly glanced over to him with a beaming smile and back to the stage again. ‘Immensely,’ Luke responded in the same volume, his voice and signature shivering with barely contained excitement. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard this many different instruments being played in the same place before. Not even by the bells of Kashmi.’</p><p>Ah, the excitement of a Child when encountering anything regarding music, song, and dance. He had forgotten how adored it was in his former home, and there was simply something satisfying and grand about watching the child soak up the full impact of the music being produced around him. He rumbled out a low, pleased sound that Luke met with a brilliant grin. ‘I can certainly see how an orchestra of this size would be quite the experience for a first time,’ he agreed easily, the horns bellowing out their calls as the choir reached their refrain once more, the Force a kaleidoscope of emotions and experiences around them as both the musician and singers poured their hearts into their performance, much to the delight of the crowd.</p><p>The little one made a sound of agreement, eyes shining as he slowly spun around to see the whole of the orchestra on all sides. Vader had to admit himself that it was a truly impressive sight, especially considering it had been put together in such a short time. He knew that there was more than one club for musicians aboard the Lady, for all manner of genres and preferences, but to see them band together like this to give a performance that truly astounded was an experience he would liken to friendly rivals deciding to show everyone what they were <em>truly</em> made of. Something only emphasized by the low undercurrents of competition he could sense here and there when one section or the other produced an especially spectacular sound.</p><p>And then, there was the choir singing over it all. A call-and-response that was growing faster and more fervent as both sides of the song lost themselves in the music.</p><p><em>‘Far into the black of void,’</em> the bass singers cast towards their counterpoints, the Force singing along with them in elation, anticipation, and joy.</p><p><em>‘On every ship both large and small,’</em> the alto and soprano singers returned, singing canon to each other as their voices echoed their exhilaration through the mess hall and every fiber of their Force signatures.</p><p><em>‘Far into the black of void,’</em> the bass singers sung once more, but this time there was another voice singing along, just loud enough that Vader could hear it. Chuckling quietly enough that his vocoder wouldn’t pick up on it, he glanced down to where Luke was animatedly singing along with the choir, an iridescent star shining with passion and ardor as he quietly repeated after each side of the song.</p><p>Wonderous, incredible, <em>impossible</em> child.</p><p><em>‘Where our memories will never fall!’ </em>the response came, drums and brass instruments thundering as the notes soared. Vader closed his eyes for a moment and simply basked in the feeling of the Force wild and alive with the passion and celebration of the hundreds of musicians and thousands of audience members allowing their spirits to rise ever higher on the wings of song.</p><p>The Dark, curiously enough, was more than content to simply weave through the bright pulses of the celebration, feeling nighly content and inquisitive more than anything. He made a quiet noise as he drew it back to himself, the blackness shot through with fire going easily and curling around both him and Luke, satisfied. Something that he would have deemed an impossibility mere weeks ago, but now—</p><p>He opened his eyes and looked at the crowds cheering and clapping as the song finished with a triumphant coda, confetti and flowers still raining down on both audience and musicians alike from the surrounding balconies, Luke cheering as loud as any of them as he still stood by Vader's side.  </p><p>But now? Now, it suddenly didn’t seem so strange anymore.</p><p>He sighed quietly enough that his vocoder wouldn’t pick up on it. It seemed the Force and all its aspects would never cease to surprise him.</p><p>The cheering of the audience swelled to a crescendo and the signatures atop the stage took on a distinctly satisfied air, Director Astra bearing a wide grin as she surveyed the orchestra and choir in front of her, the musicians and singers in question lightly jostling each other with affectionate gestures as the realization that the first song had gone off without a hitch sunk in.</p><p>A spotlight clicked on as Director Astra stepped forward from behind her music stand, illuminating her as she grabbed two small microphones from behind it along the way and walked towards the edge of the podium. Vader noted with some curiosity that her presence shimmered with an anticipation that hummed at a different pitch than before, and the choir and orchestra echoed her in time as they saw her step forward. Clearly, they were in on what was about to happen, but what—?</p><p>He followed her gaze, and abruptly it became abundantly clear what her goal was, at least in part. Huffing out a sound of amusement, he saw Luke cheerily wave at the Director as her gaze likely met his.</p><p>Of course. It was Luke. How could he have thought otherwise?</p><p>Director Astra lightly tapped a microphone, and the crowd abruptly quieted down. Grinning wide at the audience, she gave a shallow bow as she made her first address of the evening to the crowd. ‘Good evening to one and all!’ she called as the crowd returned a rousing cheer as a greeting. Waiting for a moment as the cheer died down and grinning even wider, he could tell that Director Astra was enjoying the moment along with the other members of the orchestra and choir.</p><p>‘I dare say we’ve all had a fantastic day so far,’ she continued once the cheering had died down, ‘And I hope that we have so far managed to elevate the experience even higher.’ A sweeping gesture towards both the choir and orchestra was accompanied by another loud cheer from the audience, Luke cheering along from his side as well.</p><p>‘But I think we are all aware as to why we’re here today,’ Director Astra said with a smile, and her gaze briefly glanced downwards to Luke who abruptly fell silent, the little star sparked with shock and traces of stunned mortification. Vader smiled quietly as Luke shifted slightly, cheeks darkening when Director Astra continued.</p><p>‘For an extraordinary and kind young man who has been shaking up our world these last few months. And occasionally us as well,’ she said with a chuckle with was echoed by the audience and which caused another thrill of both flattering and mortification to shoot through the little star at his side.</p><p>‘Now,’ Astra continued, ‘We could talk about the horrific events from last week, but I think we’ve <em>all</em> heard enough of that to last us a lifetime.’ A statement which the mutterings of the audience seemed to more than agree with. ‘No, today, and tonight, are about celebration and the thankfully rapid recovery of this young man. And the wild, moving, and <em>welcome</em> changes he brought for all of us.’</p><p>With that, Director Astra looked down at where Luke was now blushing fiercely at the blatant and public praise, and, on cue, a loud click echoed through the hall as a spotlight was thrown down on both him and Luke. Startled noises sounding up from deeper into the crowd and the Force told him that they had apparently managed to go unnoticed by the wider audience that wasn’t standing right next to them. A novel feeling for sure, but one that he disregarded in favor of watching Luke abruptly realize what was about to happen.</p><p>‘Luke,’ Director Astra called gently, ‘Would you be so kind as to step onto the stage so we can all see you?’</p><p>A loud cheer rose up from out of the audience, shouting, whistling, and clapping as they backed up Astra’s request. Luke looked around with wide eyes at the sheer wave of sound that was rising up from the crowd. A look that quickly softened into something fondly resigned as he huffed out a laugh, nodding towards Astra.</p><p>Watching Luke walk up to the front of the podium where, unfortunately, there were no stairs, he saw Astra begin to hold out her hand to help Luke climb up the considerable height of the podium. Well, that wouldn’t do.</p><p>The Dark hummed in agreement around him, and reaching out with black tendrils that sparked like a hearth in his mind’s Eyes, he gently wrapped it around Luke like a gust of wind. Luke made a startled noise as Vader directed the Dark to begin to lift, alarm flaring briefly in the Force, but it near-instantly softened out into amused recognition and quiet trust as he glanced back towards Vader for only the briefest moments with a knowing smile.</p><p>Rising elegantly into the air to the surprise and astonishment of the audience, Luke carefully held his arms out just slightly for balance as Vader lifted him up, up, and onto the podium, setting him down with all the care of letting a feather drift to the ground.</p><p>While the Director and the audience were still gaping at the sight in clear wonder, Luke regained his footing and Vader carefully pulled the Dark back from the little star. It went with a contented trill and surprising ease, and when Luke looked back to him with a beaming smile and a grateful nod, it felt more than worth it.</p><p>The Director recovered from her shock with all the trained professionalism of a seasoned performer. She grinned warmly to Luke while dipping her head towards him in greeting, a gesture Luke echoed easily, and handed him the other microphone. ‘Well then,’ Luke said, humor sparking in Force signature as he glanced between Astra and the audience, ‘Here I am.’</p><p>It was truly astounding how loud a cheer such little words could garner, and yet, Vader couldn’t disagree with a single moment of it. Neither could Director Astra, apparently, as she lightly shook her head while smiling.</p><p>‘Here you are indeed,’ she agreed, ‘And we’re very happy to have you.’ The crowd unscored her statement again with another cheer, but this time Luke held up a hand in a bid for silence, and within seconds the audience of tens of thousands was silent once more in a gesture that made something inside Vader swell with pride.</p><p>Luke, brilliant, fierce little star, and he could command this crowd as easily as breathing.</p><p>
  <em>Wonderous, impossible child.</em>
</p><p>‘If it’s not too much to ask though,’ Luke continued on once the silence had settled in, directing his attention back towards Astra, <em>‘Why</em> am I here?’</p><p>‘Well,’ Director Astra said, her Force signature and that of people all around the crowd and chittering with a small nervousness, ‘Since this performance is being held in your honor, we hoped to ask you if you would lead us in the next song. Or simply pick one out,’ she added with an understanding wink.</p><p>Luke’s microphone dropped to his side as he gave both the Director and the audience a wide-eyed look. A look the audience took as a cue for encouragement in the form of a slowly swelling round of applause and the occasional whistle was needed, the Force alive with a susurration of eager anticipation and wild hope as a crowd of tens of thousands of people made a bid to get him to sing. Something which the little star seemed to realize as well with a huff of laughter and a shake of his head, iridescence in the Force bright with fondness and… something more.</p><p>Once more gesturing for silence, Luke brought the microphone back up again, his other hand reaching into his overalls by his neck, and Vader abruptly realized what he must be reaching for. ‘You are all <em>so</em> lucky,’ he began with a wry grin, ‘That I, by some miracle, came prepared.’ And with that, he pulled out a familiar small, glossy black pendant on a string of beads that he flipped in his hand in one fluid motion that spoke of experience.</p><p>Handing the microphone off to a now highly curious Director Astra and the murmurings of the crowd, Luke promptly brought the little ocarina to his mouth and blew out a high, cheerful string of notes that spiraled through the air like a tumbling bird, nearly drowned out by the deafening explosion of sound that followed from the crowd as they realized what was happening. Applause and cheers thundered through the air as surprise quickly shifted into rapturous exhilaration as the crowds and musicians alike realized they were going to get their song.</p><p>Looking rather pleased at the development of things, Luke scanned the crowd in front of them, letting the cheers carry on for a moment longer before gesturing for silence once more and turning back to Director Astra who had crossed her arms and shifted her weight to rest on a single leg, giving Luke a significant look while grinning all the same.</p><p>The little star merely shrugged in a gesture that easily read “what can you do?” and proceeded onwards. ‘So, I ought to pick a song, huh?’ he said with a smile, ‘Then how about…?’ He brought the ocarina to his lips once more and the notes of a familiar refrain began to fill the air and Vader abruptly realized just what kind of song the little star was aiming to pick, the Dark laughing as the realization hit home. Oh dear.</p><p>Several people cheered loudly once the notes hit the air, but much of the audience merely muttered in delighted confusion.</p><p>Luke laughed as he looked over the crowd. ‘Yeah, some of you recognize that one, don’t you?’ he called into the sea of people, receiving enthusiastic shouts back. He beamed wide and turned back to the Director who’d gained a glint in her eyes, her presence thrumming with recognition at the notes. ‘And it seems you do too, don’t you, Amina?’ he noted with a knowing look.</p><p>‘I certainly do,’ Astra agreed, before directing her attention towards the orchestra at large, ‘Set your sheet music to number one-one-oh-three-seven-oh in the database!’</p><p>The orchestra followed orders and soon enough the holodisplays were alight with a new series of music notes, the musicians beginning to read through them and familiarize themselves with them. Luke grinned before turning towards the choir. ‘Anyone here know the words?’ he asked them, and his signature shone bright with delight when several hands went up across the choir sections. ‘Great!’ he exclaimed, ‘Think you people can handle your sections until everyone gets the hang of them?’</p><p>When the agreement came in quick succession from those who had raised their hands and the choir began to rearrange themselves, Luke nodded towards Director Astra. ‘Shall we begin then?’ he asked with a roguish grin.</p><p>Astra laughed and made an agreeing gesture as she began to walk back over to her music stand. ‘Just lead us in, Luke,’ she called over her shoulder.</p><p>‘You got it,’ he answered before turning back to the crowds, and Vader got the impression that this was his last chance to stop this all from happening before the little star began this particular song.</p><p>He let it slip by.</p><p>‘Alright!’ Luke called, ‘Are you all ready?’</p><p>The cheer that rose up was akin in volume to a TIE fighter squad taking off.</p><p>Luke laughed and the Force sang with exhilaration. ‘Then let’s begin! Those of you who know; sing along! Those of you who don’t; you’ll pick it up fast enough! Here we go!’ With that, he gestured towards Director Astra and then motioned for silence, the cheers dying down while the Director raised her hands to signal the beginning of the song.</p><p>With a downwards motion, the musicians began to play. A slow, beautiful note from the strings marked the beginning of the song, and Luke smiled as he set his own ocarina to his lips, playing a languid, solemn tune. Notes drifted through the air like mist, and the deceptively calm beginning of the song opened up.</p><p>Slowly, with each string of notes, more and more instruments started to join, the choir falling in with a low hum as the notes of the ocarina and orchestra played off of each other under Director Astra’s guidance. It was, Vader admitted, a beautiful sound.</p><p>Then Luke dropped the pendant to dangle around his neck once more and began to sing. <em>‘A hundred-thousand leagues out past the horizon</em><em>,’</em> he began in a smooth tone, and the Force echoed the scattered cheers that rose up. <em>‘In a place that the histories won’t touch. There lies a hidden library of stories. And the stories are all about us.’</em></p><p>The Dark hummed around Vader as the song began to weave its magic. For all that Luke's Force signature was far from strong enough to truly be considered a Force User, even just weakly so, the little star was still brighter than most baselines by a factor of magnitudes. When he poured his passion into something, whether it was engineering or music, that spark of Force was enough to lend an edge to the end result, elevating it into something just a touch beyond what was really… possible.</p><p>And here, with over three-hundred-thousand people feeding into Luke's being all their adoration and near-worship? That little extra spark of Force, refined as it was by the little star on what he didn’t doubt were the Flightpaths, was more than enough to lend a mythic air to the performance.</p><p><em>‘In books of time bound by ash and letters, in languages of souls gone to dust,’ </em>Luke sang as he slowly walked the length of the podium, the spotlight following his every move, an electric guitar playing out a slow riff as the little one’s voice carried through the air. <em>‘There lies the secret heart of our ancestors, and traditions never entrust.’</em></p><p>The choir began to softly echo Luke's words as he walked, someone gliding their drumstick along a cymbal as the strings rode low in pitch to produce a haunting sound that stroked against the part of him that always stood with one foot in the Force.</p><p><em>‘Disowned by the stars and suns, misfits, mistakes, never the chosen ones. They call us scum right from birth, cut loose by fate’s own shear. They laugh at us, but they don’t remember. They don’t remember,’</em> Luke sang, quieter and quieter, the instruments following suit until there was a ringing silence that stretched for one, two—</p><p>A drum was struck and the silence shattered like earthenware.</p><p><em>‘We’re still here!’</em> Luke bellowed, echoed by more than one voice in the crowd and choir as the musicians broke their silence in a spectacular fashion. <em>‘We’re still here!’</em> Drums thundered through the air as the strings competed with the brass section for the most powerful sound, the deafening roar from the audience drowning them all out with ease as they realized what kind of song this was going to be.</p><p>Luke grinned wide and vicious in a display of bared teeth that Vader didn’t doubt was at least a little due to rising, near-manic thrill running through the audience as the music stepped up in tempo. <em>‘A thousand years from now, the words will still sound; a mockery of what we stand for!’</em> he sang, teeth still bared and the pace of the words rapid fire. <em>‘A people without home, without a scrap of lore. The ones doomed by sooth and seer! But a thousand years from now</em><em>, these words will still sound!’</em></p><p>He squared his shoulders, eyes flashing as the music went wild. <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em></p><p>The crowd roared the words with him this time, louder and stronger than before as more people joined in, and Luke grinned even wider, signature shining with the thrill of the song, the passion of music, and a deep-seated pride as the audience sung with him. Pacing the stage once more, he suddenly took a sharp turn and walked right for the edge, never stopping the song.</p><p><em>‘A war of worlds on high, a million sacrificed, and yet we carry on still! Unheard and yet unseen, subject to iron will, and yet at the turn of year—’</em> he stood at the edge of the stage and held the microphone aloft, the crowd more than willing to oblige as they thundered out the words, stomping and clapping.</p><p>
  <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em>
</p><p>‘Damn right!’ Luke yelled, grinning wide as the guitars howled and strings shrieked. The drums pounded away while the wind and brass sections seemed to be attempting to blow out a lung each. Vader couldn’t be bothered to look at them though, his eyes fixated on the sparking fire that was rising within the little star as he effortlessly sent the crowd wild, bringing the microphone back down to himself as he continued walking forward and abruptly, he realized what the child’s plan was. Taking two steps forward of his own, he met him halfway.</p><p><em>‘A march through stone worlds of fire, not a care when we expire, their greed swaps our lives for riches!’</em> Luke sang, and, with passion in his voice and trust shining in his core, he stepped into midair. The Force around them flared with brief panic from the onlookers, but Vader immediately caught the little star’s free hand, and, with some quick maneuvering, Luke easily held balance with his hand on Vader's own and his thigh resting against Vader's shoulder, holding himself up with just a touch of both Vader and the Dark’s aid. And never did he stop singing.</p><p><em>‘They beat us, bleed us, break us, our backs a map of stitches! They lead us far from home, but in every last frontier,’</em> Luke continued as he easily rolled himself across the back of Vader's shoulders, quickly switching his grip from Vader's one hand to the other as he held him up, tilting his body down to the side and letting the child use his forearm for leverage to put the little star safely on the ground, Luke beaming at him the entire time while the Force around them was alight with astonishment.</p><p>And yet Luke had never missed a beat. Standing on his own two legs once more as he walked into the crowd, he thundered out the last line of the verse, echoed by the crowd on instinct. <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em></p><p>The crowd parted before the little star as if on command, making a pathway as Luke glided forward with long strides, a confidence to his gait that seemed to effortlessly turn the crowd on a dime in a manner that Vader could only be proud of.</p><p><em>‘In shadows of the dawn, our spirit’s still strong. We know that this is not a race,’</em> Luke sang as he drew out the last word into a snarl, stepping smoothly into a small walking dance that drew cheers from the rhythmically clapping crowd, still parting to make way for him as he headed towards what seemed to be another one of the stages. <em>‘And with every breath we take, we make the world shake, it’s the reality they must face! It stabs them like a spear, a truth that they must hear, we’ll be singing—’</em></p><p>Luke held up his microphone to the crowd once more, a wall of sound crashing in, underscored by deafening stomps. <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em></p><p>‘Louder!’ Luke yelled, finally reaching the other podium, two Troopers stepping forward immediately to help him up, lifting him up by the waist while Luke folded his legs under him, stepping neatly onto the podium as the crowd roared in response, the Force fever-bright with frenzy.</p><p>
  <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em>
</p><p><em>‘Louder!’</em> he yelled again, eyes bright and his presence sparking like an arc welder that Vader nonetheless couldn’t take his eyes off of. The little star in his element, effortlessly commanding thousands, brought a warmth to him that he couldn’t quite explain.</p><p>The crowd obliged and the air <em>shook</em> with the power of the roar that followed. <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em></p><p>‘Damn right we are!’ Luke roared back to wild cheers, pacing the length of the podium back and forth as the orchestra matched the spikes in the music to his every turn, a sharp sound cracking through the air whenever Luke made a small jumping step, two wooden blocks being clapped together. The child grinned wide and wild as he fell back into the song right on the beat.</p><p><em>‘Their chains will turn to rust, crumbling to so much dust, and we’ll still be right here waiting! But in the face of fire, we find what we desire, they don’t know what we’re creating,’ </em>Luke snarled, teeth sharp and bared towards the crowd that was jumping in time with the beat.<em> ‘Our grip on Freedom strong, and though we won’t belong, it’s not a fate that we can fear! ‘Cause when the lights go out, there’s not a single doubt—’</em></p><p>He did not even have to prompt the crowd with more than a single gesture this time. <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em></p><p>‘Again!’ he yelled as he walked to the edge once more, the strings shrieking as the crowd rushed forward to the edge, armored Troopers making it to the edge first by virtue of being the most imposing presence there while the crowd screamed out the line.</p><p>
  <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em>
</p><p>‘One more time!’ Luke yelled as he stepped into the hands of the Troopers, and spun elegantly to the ground with ease while the people cheered out the words like a battle cry.</p><p>
  <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em>
</p><p>‘We are! We really are!’ Luke addressed the crowd at large, words echoing through the hall like thunder, music swelling into a crescendo and the crowd parting once more as the little star walked through them at a rapid pace. ‘Each and every one of us; <em>we’re still here!</em> So, join me in song as we celebrate that fact!’ The crowd boomed out a sound not unlike that of a bomb going off, and the little one grinned wide as he stalked towards the next podium while surveying the crowd, the brass section sounding in the start of the next verse. ‘On my signal!’ he shouted, to which the audience happily obliged. ‘Go!’</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the crowd sang.</p><p><em>‘Through the fire and the rain!’</em> Luke returned with a grin, signaling the crowd again.</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the people shouted in near delirium, the Force thundering in time with their conviction in a heady cocktail of power that nearly sent Vader's head spinning.</p><p><em>‘Though we suffered so much pain!’</em> Luke belted out, <em>‘We carry with us every scar, and though the road is long and our journey still so far—!'</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the crowd cheered, and Vader could see that there were tears running down many faces as the song and emotions began to take their toll.</p><p><em>‘And we survived our every strike!’</em> Luke sang back, sparks of fierce pride and joy rising high into the Force as the ember of starlight within him shone so bright. <em>‘Though they went at us with every sword they had and tried to mount us on a pike!’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the people yelled, triumph thick and loud within every word.</p><p><em>‘They tried to knock us off our feet, left us in the dirt with nothing but dust and rocks to eat!’</em> Luke shouted out as the crowd in front of the third podium picked him up, much to his surprise if the brief flare in the Force was anything to go off of, and carried him over their heads on their hands, the little star folding his legs under him again as he was handed off from person to person until he had reached the stage, still singing. <em>‘And yet despite the famine and the ache, there’s something they will never take—!’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the crowd sang as Luke regained his feet on the stage once more, reaching out his unoccupied prosthetic hand to greet the dozens of hands still reaching out.</p><p><em>‘The wars will come across the stars!’</em> Luke growled out, and Vader couldn’t tear his eyes away from his Home if he tried, the Dark coiling around him, similarly fascinated by what was happening in front of them. <em>‘They’ll call on us to forfeit this life and die for what was never ours! But when the dust settles down, the rust crumbling all their precious gold </em><em>bars—’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the crowd belted out like their lives depended on it, and as he saw even the most hardened soldiers be brought to tears by the little star’s performance, Vader could only look on in wonder as he saw a side to his people unlike any other. One that was, perhaps, familiar to him in more ways than he felt entirely comfortable realizing, striking so close to home. Though as he looked up at his Home, he thought that perhaps… perhaps it was fitting.</p><p><em>‘They threw us down into their waste and laughed when illness chased us far into death’s embrace!’</em> Luke snarled out, and the spotlight caught the glistening of a tear as it leaked out from the corner of his eye, the iridescent star roiling with emotion. <em>‘But when we clawed out way out of that pit of filth and deep despair, we met them there, and said—’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the people cried out, the Force echoing their sentiment with a strength that surrounded him and wove through him like liquid power, and for a moment, the background of pain seemed to dim for just a moment as the little star led hundreds of thousands of souls into a song that gathered a quantity of power than he had scarcely ever felt.</p><p><em>‘And though they leave us evermore for dead!’ </em>Luke sang out like he was battling the air itself, <em>‘And tell us that we made our own blood-encrusted bed! We outnumber them a hundred thousand million to one, we’re not outdone! For—’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> his Home and people shouted out in unison, singing at volumes that would leave them hoarse but satisfied, the orchestra letting the music swell to a bombastic peak before a dizzying fall.</p><p>‘We are!’ Luke called out to the crowd as the orchestra slowed down the tempo to something stately and reflective, the string and wind instruments challenging each other for the longest notes. ‘We are, and I can’t even tell you how much it means to me that you’re all here, in every which way,’ he told them as he walked the length of the stage, chest heaving with exertion as he headed for the edge once more, the people already coming up to meet him with open hands and hearts full of adoration that bordered on the worship. ‘We are <em>here</em>, and that won’t change, no matter what hardships we are made to endure! We are here, and we’ll <em>still</em> be here long after those that brought those hardships to us have returned to dust!’</p><p>With an easy, elegant motion, Luke stepped into the waiting hands of the crowd with a beaming smile at the people who carried him over their heads, back in the direction of the stage where Vader was still frozen to the spot. And he sang.</p><p><em>‘A hundred thousand years off in the future, in worlds that we can scarcely even dream,’</em> Luke sang softly, the Force twinkling with hope like drops of silver moonlight amidst the Dark that wound contently around them. <em>‘There won’t be anyone who calls themselves ruler, and can stand above the people in their regime.’</em></p><p>The people carefully carried Luke back over to the front on gentle hands while the little star once more greeted as many of them as he could with his unoccupied hand, people touching their own to his as he smiled down on them with a warmth that glowed within the Force while he sang. <em>‘For we are bold, and we are brave, and we will persevere. And though they try, we’ll never die, for our memories are still here.’ </em>He heaved out a shuddering breath echoed by the crowd as they gently set him back down again in front of the stage from which this had all started, Luke smiling up at Vader as he softly sang the last words, tear tracks still visible on his face. <em>‘Still here.’</em></p><p>And he… what else could he do, but hold out his hand to the little one to help him back up onto the stage he had captured everyone’s hearts from?</p><p>Luke beamed at him and accepted his hand, gently placing his own in Vader's, and with a pull on the Dark, he once more wrapped Luke up in it and directed it to lift with all the care one would bestow upon spun glass. Rising into the air like gravity had lost its grip on him, Luke smiled with a radiance that struck deep into Vader's core as he lifted the little star back onto the stage while the crowd looked on, amazement and bewilderment sparking through the Force as they saw Luke lightly drift through the air, still softly singing along with the music.</p><p><em>‘And in a hundred thousand years or more, the storytellers will gather on a shore and the stories will be thus,’</em> he sang while drifting gracefully through the air, lightly placed on his feet as his hand slid out of Vader’s grip. <em>‘They’ll talk about events of past of import and of note, and from all that they wrote… the stories will be about us.’</em> He looked into the crowd as held out his arms in an open gesture. <em>‘About us.’</em></p><p><em>‘And what they’ll say, in truth or lie, it won’t matter either way. The message is the same.’</em> He laughed softly, shaking his head while hope and joy shone like twinkling constellations through the slowly circling Dark.<em> ‘They’ll know our Name.’ </em> The little star laughed again before repeating the verse, quiet triumph in every note.<em> ‘They’ll know our Name. And loud or soft, regardless how, if it’s spoken it will be clear.’ </em>He grinned wide at the audience and stepped into a strong stance, shoulders squared back as fierce pride bloomed within the Force, the crowd bringing up a rousing cheer in anticipation of the words. A deep breath, the shivering of the strings—</p><p>And the beat of a drum that shattered the tenuous silence along with a bellowing voice.</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> Luke roared out, the crowd joining him in frenzied rapture as they roared with him, Vader left stunned by how the air, the Force, the very fabric of reality all around seemed thick with life and living and the triumph of survival as the little star sang on.</p><p><em>‘Though the sands of time will pass,’</em> Luke cast out towards the audience with a familiar gesture and a grin that stretched ear to ear.</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the crowd returned like a faithful hound, with the adoration to match.</p><p><em>‘From beginning to the last,’</em> the little one continued. <em>‘We’ll be remembered even if they never know our face. It’s in every path we trace. The stars know our place!’</em> Luke belted out, to the raucous delight of the people.<em> ‘And it’s a place that could have never been more clear—’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the people cried out in a wall of sound, utterly lost to the beat of the music and their own emotions as they affirmed their own existence until it was undeniable, unforgettable, unignorable. Until they were <em>people</em> again, instead of—</p><p>The sides respirator dug into the corners of his mouth as he realized— understood— <em>remembered—</em></p><p>Instead of tools. Instead of cogs in a machine. Instead of things to be <em>used.</em></p><p>Until they were <em>people</em> again.</p><p><em>‘Our records written in the light of passing stars!’</em> Luke shouted to the high heavens until perhaps even the Force would bend its knee and make it so.</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the people sang into the void, into the Dark, even as they couldn’t hear it sing back. But it did. Force, it <em>did.</em> And maybe— maybe—</p><p>Maybe he could sing with it too.</p><p><em>‘It tells the story of us all, of every peace and every war! It tells the story of our joys, of our regrets and our sacrifice,’</em> Luke sang while walking in dancing steps across the stage, light on his feet and in his presence. <em>‘And they may burn our books to ash and dust, silence us for they think they must, us brilliant ranks of life’s own acolytes! It will suffice. The message that ever matters they will hear.’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re still here,’</em> Vader sang quietly as the crowd drowned out his voice like a drop in the ocean.</p><p>It was barely more than a muttering, and the vocoder didn’t allow for any intonation, but—</p><p>It felt right. It felt <em>good</em><em>.</em> And that last feeling alone was novel enough to make him continue on with it.</p><p>And Luke sang on.</p><p><em>‘Through every famine, death, and war, know that we have come this far!’</em> Luke sang out with his heart on his sleeve and the sun in his voice. <em>‘From past the planets, past the stars, past the furthest black of space! We know our place!’ </em>He growled and repeated the last line with increased force. <em>‘We know our place!’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the people yelled to worlds on high, Vader quietly singing the words with them as the Dark and Force pulsed with power like a heartbeat, feeding the excess straight into him and Luke and everyone here until it looked like he was standing amid a sea of stars, and felt like he could fly.</p><p><em>‘We are the nights spent gazing at the sky! We are the harsh truths to their sweetest lie!’</em> The core of the little star lashed and sparked like a forge fire, the bright nucleus through which all the power building in the hall flowed. Filaments of Dark and Light and every shade in between that spun like a web around Luke, with an iridescent nova at the center. <em>‘We are the nebulae and the cradle of the night! We are every little speck of storm-dappled light! We are the might of a million souls taking flight in skies so clear! We are every last hope and dream they fear!’</em></p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’ </em>the voices of the people sounded, every single thread of voice coming together into a sound that Vader imagined was much like how a star sounded when it was born. Luke standing amidst it all as the brightest star in lightyears around, fed power by his adoring crowd until he shone bright enough to, for just a moment, let Vader glimpse what he would have been like as a Force sensitive. A constellation that could rival the whole of the night on his own.</p><p>Luke's chest was heaving, still pacing the stage and grinning ear to ear as the orchestra swelled into a bombastic, triumphant finale. ‘We’re still here!’ he yelled, to the wild cheers of the crowd, ‘We’re still here, and I ask that you let that hear louder than ever, one last time!’ The crowd shouted out their agreement at cymbals clashed and drums pounded like the heartbeat of thunder. ‘Alright!’ Luke yelled, ‘Here we go!’</p><p><em>‘We carry in us the light where life began! We are the end of every fated plan!’</em> Luke roared out like the ancient krayt of legend that left the ground for the endless starry void, and as his core flared brighter than it ever had, for a moment Vader thought that he could see eyes of one of those ancients looking back at him. <em>‘We are a thousand million whispers of times gone by! We are the eternity of endless nighttime sky! We are everything we are and we will persevere! Through every time and every story, on every planet in stars’ full glory, we can say! We can say!’</em></p><p>Luke panted as he held his microphone up high, amplifying the mighty voice of the people until they could be mistaken for a supernova.</p><p>
  <em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em>
</p><p>The Force <em>pulsed,</em> and Vader opened his Eyes to look around in wonderment as everything drew together, the filaments intertwining and intersecting like veins, throbbing with life and power as they fed into the heart of it all; Luke. Shining and brilliant, every spark the beat of a heart that amplified the feedback loop of power that sent everyone in the hall into a near frenzy as they cheered Luke on.</p><p>‘Louder!’ Luke yelled as the strings shrieked and snarled and growled, the brass and woodwind howling out their notes as the drumbeat thundered on, a storm seeming to gather with every note.</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> the crowd returned like the crashing of waves, like the violence of the tempest, pouring ardent adoration and zealous unity into the beating heart of the iridescent fires at the core of this web of the Force.</p><p><em>‘Louder!’</em> The roar rent the air in the teeth of its sound, the little star sparking through the Force like the nova he was.</p><p><em>‘We’re! Still! Here!’</em> The sound crashed through the air and into Vader's chest, shaking in his bones and prostheses alike and racing through his blood. The Force came <em>alive</em> with the sheer intensity of the crowd’s focus, all aimed at the shining light on the stage who flared like a sun.</p><p><strong><em>‘Louder!’</em></strong> Luke shouted as the Force roared with the voice of hundreds of thousands of souls. <strong><em>‘Sing with me!’</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>‘We’re!’</em>
</p><p>Thunder and lightning, the storm broke loose.</p><p>
  <em>‘Still!’</em>
</p><p>The Force writhed like a living beast made of tempest and time, wild and powerful and <em>Free.</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>‘Here!’</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>The hall, the air, the very Force itself seemed to ignite as people and orchestra alike reached volumes previously unknown, the crowd shouting themselves hoarse as the musicians seemed to fight with their own instruments to produce the sound needed, everything loud and bright and—</p><p>The beat of the drum, and it was over.</p><p>And the Force erupted as a deafening cheer rose up.</p><p>Soundwaves crashed down and pounded into him with a force that compelled him to draw on the Dark to dampen the crashing sound. The Dark obliged easily, and as the roar of the crowd muffled, he got the chance to look around at the ecstatic people all around him, cheering like it was all keeping them alive. A thrill ran through the air and the Force that was nothing so much as the sheer joy of being alive, alive and present.</p><p>Everywhere he looked there were displays of overwhelming celebration and emotion, with people falling around each other’s neck in a deep embrace while screaming and laughing, tears on nearly every face, and a heady feeling of <em>hope</em>, hope and faith in the Force like he had rarely, if ever felt before.</p><p>All because they had been able to affirm their existence until their throats were as raw as their souls.</p><p>‘We’re still here,’ he muttered quietly, words utterly drowned out by the screaming masses of people even as something— something resonated with them. They were all still here. And that— that meant something, even if he wouldn’t be able to say precisely what. Not with the way the Force was still pounding through his head with the sheer <em>power</em> and <em>faith</em> and <em>adoration</em> that, for just a moment, made him feel invincible.</p><p>Then the moment passed, and he was just a man amongst a sea of people, for once merely a part of the crowd as the celebrations continued. Just a man, and nothing more.</p><p>It felt… better than he expected.</p><p>The crowd around him shrieked and screamed with rapturous ecstasy as the effects of the song continued to sink in. He wasn’t looking at them any longer though. How could he, when his gaze was drawn inexorably to the stage where the focal point of this mass hysteria was located.</p><p>Luke was still standing there on the stage, microphone held loosely at his side and chest heaving as he looked over the celebrating crowd with a radiant smile. There was a deep sense of satisfaction in the little star’s signature when he brushed up against it, the iridescence welcoming his own presence in easily as he did so. Still bright and sparking, he nearly recoiled on instinct the moment Luke's presence reached back to his own, his core molten and like lightning in its purest form.</p><p>That alone was nearly enough to make withdraw entirely from Luke, the echo of a cackle ringing in his ears, but— but Luke's presence followed his, staying in contact and it didn’t— it didn’t—</p><p>It didn’t <em>hurt.</em></p><p>Lightning against his soul, and it <em>didn’t hurt</em><em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>What—?</em>
</p><p>His thoughts on the matter froze in their tracks when Luke's eyes landed on him and, with a flare of warmth and fondness from the presence pressed up against his own darkness, he sauntered over to where Vader was standing with an open expression and a satisfied but tired sway to his step.</p><p>Reacting on autopilot, he was already holding out a hand to help the little star down from the stage by the time Luke had reached him before he could even think about it, or the lightning still softly brushing up against the very core of his soul that was leaving him warm and tingling instead of writhing in pain.</p><p>‘Hey,’ Luke greeted, warm and fond and alive with the hum of residual power still being pumped into him by the adoration of the crowd as he reached back with his own hand, sparks of the accumulated Force traveled up artificial nerves once Luke touched his hand to Vader's.</p><p>And still it didn’t hurt.</p><p>Marveling at the odd sensation that was this strange, painless, and, if he were to examine the feeling any closer, not wholly unpleasant sensation, he inclined his head back towards the little sparking star. ‘Little one,’ he greeted as Luke prepared to step into midair.</p><p>Luke chuckled slightly and, trusting in Vader with an unwavering certainty that nearly left Vader breathless, allowed himself to rest his weight fully on Vader, with utter faith that he wouldn’t fall. Third time’s the charm, the Dark easily flowed around Luke like a veil, lessening the little one’s already negligible weight until it felt like he was barely holding a feather.</p><p>Luke sighed, and allowed himself to nearly collapse into the Dark and Vader's embrace, a wave of exhaustion coming up to meet him in the Force, the child blinking slowly at Vader as he carefully wrapped an arm around to support the little star, a sense of tiredness in every line of Luke's body. And still his core shone with the power poured into it by over a hundred thousand souls.</p><p>Wondrous, unfathomable, <em>impossible</em> child.</p><p>‘You, little one,’ he murmured quietly, sincerely, ‘Were truly magnificent.’</p><p>Luke huffed out a quiet laugh and bumped his temple against the side of Vader's helmet in a drained gesture of affection. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered back in a similar tone. ‘I honestly didn’t think I would be able to pull it off, but… everyone just sprung in, didn’t they?’</p><p>He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped the vocoder as he carefully began maneuvering Luke to the ground. ‘As I believe I said before, little one,’ he noted with just the slightest teasing lilt, ‘You are you, and they thank you for it.’</p><p>Luke knocked his head against Vader's just a bit harder, too tired to do much more after the explosive musical performance he just gave and murmuring an incoherent protesting noise that nonetheless didn’t amount to much more. The Force shimmered with the veil of sleep slowly drawing near, distant though it still was, and Vader huffed out a quiet sound as he realized what was happening.</p><p>‘Tired, little one?’ he asked, already knowing the answer and drawing the little star closer instead of releasing his grip to allow him to stand on his own once more.</p><p>‘Mhm,’ Luke hummed, not protesting in the slightest to being drawn closer. Something of which Vader was all too happy to make use of as he drew the little star snugly against himself, allowing the majority of the child’s weight to still rest on both him and the Dark as he carefully touched Luke's feet down to the ground. ‘I dunno why,’ he said, shaking his head in what seemed to be an attempt to clear the exhaustion from his mind.</p><p>He hummed out his own low sound as he kept a hand on the little star’s shoulder in support. ‘Yes, why <em>could</em> that be?’ he asked, tone dripping in sarcasm. ‘It could not be the fact that you just performed a high-octane music number while expending significant effort in maneuvering around an audience of thousands. While still recovering from a catastrophic injury, mind you. Certainly not that.’</p><p>The lightning still dancing over the core of himself tinged with something sheepish, and Luke gently bumped his head against his shoulder once more. ‘Alright, alright,’ he groused, ‘I get the point.’ A deep sigh pressed the side of the little star against his, and the well of satisfaction that ran deep through the Force returned to the forefront. ‘It was worth it though,’ he muttered with joy tinging every word. ‘It really was.’</p><p>Vader looked up and surveyed the crowd of his people, laughing and singing verses of the song in a haphazard manner like nothing could touch or judge them. Not today. Not here.</p><p>‘Yes,’ he agreed quietly, ‘I believe it was.’</p><p>The iridescent lightning sang through his soul with shared contentment and comfort as Luke settled in against his side, leaning his weight fully against Vader while sleep, still distant, drew its veil closer around the little one’s core. They let a grace note of silence sit between them as they looked out to the people around them, mutually basking in each other’s presence and that of the crowd around them.</p><p>Eventually, the frenzy seemed to die down, and with it, the flow of power that had been pouring into the little star’s core slowed down significantly, though he was curious to note, it did not dissipate entirely. The lightning that had danced throughout his own starless night dimmed down to mere sparks as its feed lessened, and he could admit to himself that he was oddly… saddened to see it go. It hadn’t hurt, and that alone was enough to make him wish that it would stay.</p><p>Never mind his own curiosity at the odd phenomena.</p><p>But he was starkly reminded of the fact that, for all that the Force had reacted in a manner Vader had only rarely seen before today and never quite like… this, Luke still wasn’t sensitive enough to the Force to stretch beyond his current boundaries. He sighed. Though this demonstration of capability nearly made him wish that he was. It would have been a glorious thing to witness Luke growing into a powerful Force sensitive, something he suspected would be unlike anything else. Perhaps… perhaps with some training in learning to open his mind to the cosmos around…?</p><p>A small flash of concern tapped against the bounds of his psyche, and he looked down to see Luke glancing up at him from the corners of his eyes, a question clearly displayed in them.</p><p>Shaking off the morosity that he’d been indulging in, he carefully wrapped himself around the little star and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Placated, Luke smiled and turned his gaze back to the crowds, who were once more beginning to settle back in from their brief bout of feverish celebrations.</p><p>And then the chanting began.</p><p>Stomping and clapping in synchronicity, the crowd began cheering Luke's name like a summoning chant as they directed their attention back to the main stage. Feel the stunned awe emanating from his side, Vader chuckled lowly while giving the little star’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘It seems your fans are still far from done with you, little one,’ he noted with some amusement. ‘I dare say it is time for you to take your bow.’</p><p>Luke looked around the crowd with endearingly wide eyes filled with surprise as he registered the happenings around him. ‘I— I guess so,’ he stammered out, bafflement clear in his every word before he shook it off and smiled towards Vader. ‘Help me up?’</p><p>He rumbled out a laugh as he inclined his head in agreement. ‘Of course, little one, you need not ask.’</p><p>With a smooth pull on the Force and the contented hum of the Dark, his Home lifted into the air once more to the wild cheering of the crowd as they caught sight of him.</p><p>Pride coursed through him, warm and heady as he saw the little star wave at his ardent devotees with a beaming smile that was nothing less than radiant. Paper flowers and confetti rained down from the balconies around in a perfect display of colorful adoration that was a true spectacle to behold, even through the red haze of his lenses.</p><p>And yet none of it compared to the sight of the Force swelling with power once more as it poured directly into Luke, core brightening to lightning pitch that shone like the sun.</p><p>He decided then and there that he would likely never grow tired of that sight.</p><p>‘Well then!’ Luke called out to his audience as he was carefully placed back on his feet. ‘I dare say that went pretty well, no?’</p><p>Whoops of agreement came his way as the stomping and clapping heightened to a crescendo that was neatly brought down to a more reasonable level by the little star with an easy gesture, laughing brightly as he did so. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, bright and earnest, ‘I would say that it’s worthy of that kind of cheer. It was something extraordinary that you all allowed me to help you create, so allow me to say that it was a true honor to sing with you all,’ he said while making a sweeping gesture towards the crowd, cheers and applause greeting him.</p><p>‘With the wonderful people of the choir and orchestra on the stages with me who brought the talent to this performance.’ A slow, sweeping gesture all around this time, and after a bit of jostling and a flare of surprise in the Force, each stage’s occupants stood as Luke's outstretched arm gestured towards them, and took a bow to fierce applause.</p><p>‘And,’ he continued once every last band of orchestra members had taken their well-deserved bow, turning towards the Director’s music stand, ‘Of course, Director Astra for being willing to direct this whole blessed mess!’</p><p>The Director shook her head fondly as she was met with thunderous applause and more than one call of agreement as she stepped forward to take her own bow as Luke stepped aside, clapping his own hands as best he could while still holding his microphone.</p><p>She nodded towards Luke as she straightened up out of her bow. ‘I take it then, from this dedication, that you are begging off of another song?’</p><p>Luke grinned and dipped his head, much to the regret of the crowd as whines of disappointment sounded through the air. ‘l know, I know,’ he addressed the crowd, ‘But fact of the matter is that I already got a reminder just now that I’m still recovering from an injury—’ Luke glanced towards him and gave a cheeky grin as he saw him cross his arms, ‘—and if I’m honest, I’m feeling it too. I think another song like that would knock me out flat, and I’m not looking to give Medic Pelli an excuse to put me back in the recovery ward.’</p><p>Scattered laughter sounded out around the audience, and some of the disappointment melted away like frost before the sun. Director Astra spared a grin as well and inclined her head. ‘Very understandable. In that case, on behalf of everyone present here, I wish you a very pleasant evening, Luke, and thank you for giving us all the performance of a lifetime.’</p><p>Luke grinned as he dipped into a playful bow, much to the delight of the crowd. ‘Thank <em>you,</em> it was a grand experience.’ With that he turned to the crowd and offered them a similar, elegantly lighthearted bow to rousing cheers and deafening applause. ‘And thank you all as well, for this wonderful evening!’</p><p>The people cheered and applauded, the air shaking with their fervor as Luke handed off the microphone back to the Director and, with one last round of waves goodbye and a rain of flowers and confetti that stuck to both hair and clothes, he walked back over to where Vader was still standing, waiting to help the little one down one last time.</p><p>As Luke stepped into midair again with all the unwavering faith in him that left him stunned, he marveled at the fact that for everyone there was here, for all that the people had proven time and time again that they would aid him if needed…</p><p>His Home still walked towards <em>him.</em></p><p>Trusted <em>him</em> to help him.</p><p>He laughed softly.</p><p><em>Impossible</em> child.</p><p>With as much care as both he and the Dark could muster in a durasteel grip, Luke was set to the ground, featherlight and with barely a hair out of place. With a smile and not a word, Luke leant his tired weight against Vader's side, exhaustion setting in once more now that the energy provided to him by their people began to wane again. They didn’t say a word to each other. They didn’t need to. The waves of comfort and fondness passing between them in the Force said more than enough as Vader gathered the little star back into his own Dark embrace.</p><p>After a while of simply basking in each other’s presence, watching the flowers fall and the crowd celebrate like there would never again be another tomorrow, the orchestra began to play again as the choir sang their lines. Looking out over the hall as the festival went on around them, he could honestly say that it was a beautiful sight.</p><p>A sentiment that seemed to be echoed by the little star as awed contentment washed over him like waves lapping at the shore. The little star leant a bit further into Vader, and even as sleep truly began to draw near in the waves of exhaustion, it was never enough to drown out the sheer contentment present. ‘Today was a good day,’ Luke noted quietly as he looked out over the crowd of people.</p><p>‘Yes,’ he murmured back as he drew his arm a little further around the child’s shoulders, taking the increase in featherweight with ease, ‘I agree.’</p><p>Luke hummed and hid a yawn behind his hand. ‘Can we walk for a bit?’ he asked, still leaning on Vader.</p><p>He didn’t even need to think about it. ‘Of course, little one,’ he rumbled, ‘Just lean on me.’</p><p>‘Thank you,’ Luke whispered as they began to walk, the crowd making a path for them once they saw who it was that was making their way through them.</p><p>He squeezed Luke's shoulder in acknowledgement, but didn’t say another word as they began navigating their way out of the podia area, back into the rest of the hall in comfortable silence.</p><p>As they headed towards where the lights were still brighter, Luke only stopping to grab something to eat made of more fried dough and sugar than could ever be healthy, Vader took note of all the recognizable faces in the crowd. The Troopers he regularly marched with were having drinking and eating contests, laughing as they jostled and pushed each other around while shimmering with camaraderie and joy in the Force.</p><p>Crewmates that were dancing several dozen dances on the dancefloor adjacent to the orchestral section, showcasing everything from waltzes to tangos to modern ballet to something that he recognized as a martial arts dance with some surprise. With partners, alone, and at every level of competence you could imagine, for once it did not matter and everyone merely seemed to be having the time of their lives just moving to the rhythm of the beat.</p><p>He spotted more than one Officer out of uniform, mingling in the crowd even as they were technically not supposed to be here. The same could be said for him as well however, and he let it slide as he spotted Captain Allter dancing with one Lieutenant Mirkir, both ladies utterly lost in each other, and he suspected he would have to do some subtle shuffling in the duty roster to ensure that anything that bloomed there would… skate past the regulations regarding fraternization.</p><p>Looking further allowed him to spot General Veers and Captain Venka as well, and, much to his surprise, a glimpse of a familiar Force signature led his gaze straight to one Admiral Piett, quietly regarding the festivities while nursing a glass of something clear and quite strong, if the slightest fuzz around the edges of his presence was anything to go off of.</p><p>Luke followed his gaze and clearly spotted the person he was observing as well, chuckling slightly. ‘Honestly,’ he muttered, ‘Never thought I’d see the Admiral at a party like this, but good on him.’</p><p>He rumbled out a short laugh as he inclined his head in agreement, guiding the little one along and leaving the Admiral to his celebration. ‘Agreed,’ he muttered, ‘I do believe it might do the good Admiral’s nerves some good.’</p><p>Luke laughed and pressed against his side a little firmer for a moment for lack of space to properly nudge. ‘True, he’s always so high-strung I thought he might snap.’</p><p>Rumbling out a sound of amused agreement at the little one’s assessment of the Admiral, he steered Luke carefully through the crowds as the little star’s battle with exhaustion began to fail, yawns becoming more prevalent as they walked, and when Luke at last began to sway, he carefully kept a balancing arm around the little star as he pressed him close. ‘I believe,’ he murmured quietly while Luke leaned into him, ‘That it might be time to call it a night, little one.’</p><p>Luke yawned again and nodded wearily into the synthleather of his suit. ‘I think you might be right,’ he agreed.</p><p>‘Come then,’ he said while drawing the edge of his mantle around the frame of the child. ‘Let me walk you back to your quarters.’</p><p>Luke said nothing, but the contented hum and the pulse of warmth rippling across the Force told him all he needed to know. He slowly began guiding the child to the entrance of the hall, mindful of the short, sometimes slightly stumbling steps that were all Luke seemed to be capable of at the moment.</p><p>Helping the little star through the crowds at a pace like that gave him the chance to look around the festival once more. Music echoed through the hall just barely surpassing the din of voices singing and talking and shouting. Flowers and confetti and streamers were still being tossed over the edges of the balconies, and made for a colorful rain that was truly a wonder to look at even with the red haze of the HUD layered over it. And everywhere he looked there was joy and peace. Not the quiet kind, by any means, but a peace that spoke of a love for living that made the Force sing along with the musicians and the Dark settle down with a hum.</p><p>He sighed softly. It truly had been a good day.</p><p>He looked down at the little one still leaning against his side and felt a deep sense of fond warmth take him over. And it had all been thanks to this child.</p><p>Force, did he love his little star.</p><p>He nearly stopped in his tracks at that thought, and only the fact that it would have unbalanced Luke kept him moving forward.</p><p>Did he just—?</p><p>He tentatively reached out to the thought he had just had and turned it over, on its side, and back again to analyze it.</p><p>Brilliant, bright Luke, a child and Child with the ability to hold the whole galaxy in his heart and be held in the heart of the galaxy in turn.</p><p>And he… loved the little one. Did he?</p><p>Was he even capable of that anymore?</p><p><strong><em>Yes,</em></strong> sang the Dark as he examined the thought with wary hands, sparking with truth in a manner that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe but had to nonetheless. The Dark didn’t lie. As much as he wanted it too sometimes.</p><p>He loved Luke Lars, the child that had barged into his life all those months ago to unceremoniously turn everything he’d ever known on its head and, for some Force-forsaken reason, had decided that Vader would make for the ideal friend and mentor.</p><p>Force knew how it had happened, but here he was now, at a festival thrown in Luke's honor, escorting the guest of honor back to his quarters before the little one truly did tip over and land himself face-first on the floor, sleep having claimed him. And he couldn’t deny that it was an act done out of a love he had only ever experienced the beginnings of, all those years ago when <em>she</em> had been—</p><p>He swallowed tightly as the Dark began to stir in interest once more, shifting as his emotions began to intensify.</p><p>He loved the little one, and that— that was a terrifying thought.</p><p>
  <em>What if—</em>
</p><p>Luke shifted against his side, and the thought was broken before it could even begin as concern quietly tapped against the bounds of his psyche. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly, alertness coming back in small pulses as his concern for Vader clearly overwrote his exhaustion. ‘You seem… tense.’</p><p>He loved Luke. ‘I… simply had a thought that surprised me, little one,’ he deflected carefully, ‘That is all.’</p><p>He loved Luke. He loved Luke like he— like he had once begun to learn to love a little spark of life that had yet to become.</p><p>He loved Luke like a <em>Father.</em></p><p>How could he <em>possibly</em> justify that after— after—</p><p>‘It seems to have startled you pretty badly,’ Luke noted, ever astute in his intuition. ‘Are you— are you sure you’re fi— i— ine—’ he trailed off as a jaw-cracking yawn took hold of the little one, sleep once more coming to the foreground, and just like that, Vader forgot his own revelation in favor of making sure Luke didn’t sway too far on his feet.</p><p>‘I will be fine, little one,’ he assured the sleepy child, not even feeling like it was much of a lie at the moment. Not with Luke close and present. ‘It merely made me think something I… did not know I was not yet prepared to face.’</p><p>Luke looked blearily up at him but, evidently too tired to truly make an attempt at wheedling out more information, he merely nodded and leaned back into Vader's side. ‘Alright,’ he murmured as they walked out of the entrance of the hall, leaving the wall of sound and light behind them while Luke swayed on his feet, ‘If you say so.’</p><p>There was a number of responses he could have given to that statement, but he found that, over the course of the evening, sometimes it was the wordless responses that spoke the most. Carefully drawing the little star even closer, in one fluid motion and a whisper of the Dark he had Luke swept off his swaying legs and into Vader's arms, tucking the little one against his chest to the sound of a startled squawk.</p><p>‘Wha—!’ Luke yelped, wriggling in Vader grip in surprise.</p><p>‘Hush,’ he murmured lowly, ‘You would have fallen asleep on your feet sooner or later, and like this I do not have to worry about the eventuality of you injuring yourself because you overestimated your own waking state.’</p><p>Luke shot him a look that was equal parts baffled and affronted, a look that was unfortunately ruined by the impulse that led to another deep yawn that left the expression more sheepish than anything. ‘I could’ve walked on my own, y’know,’ the little star mumbled even as he settled in against Vader's form, tucking his head into the crook between Vader's collar and chest plate. Vader plucked the flower crown off of Luke's head with a quick draw on the Dark before it could accidentally be crushed, laying carefully on Luke's chest as sleep started to draw its veil fully over the child in his arms.</p><p>‘Perhaps,’ he conceded, using just a touch of the Dark to make the position as comfortable as possible for Luke, drawing his mantle over the child who was already beginning to slip into a doze. ‘But forgive me if I wish not to chance it.’</p><p>‘Hmm,’ Luke hummed, shifting slightly to allow the mantle to be tucked in around him, the Force alive with quiet pulses of comfort and warmth as he settled against Vader, the little star starting to brighten once more, not due to the power fed to him by a crowd of thousands, but due to the natural inhibition of sleep.</p><p>‘Rest, little one,’ he murmured quietly. ‘I will bring you home.’</p><p>‘’lready am,’ Luke mumbled back. ‘’m with you.’</p><p>He could have hardly helped the hitching sound his vocoder produced, but evidently, the exhaustion was enough to lull Luke straight to sleep in spite of it, and soon the plastisteel of his chest plate was fogging up with the soft breaths of a sleeping star.</p><p>Huffing out his own quiet breath, he resumed his walk back towards the elevators, grateful that all it would take was a short ride a few levels up to the child’s quarters.</p><p>He kept his thoughts carefully blank of his previous train of thought in case his own distress managed to leak over the bond between them and wake the soundly sleeping star who was chirping in soft contentment. Which was clearly the sole reason for his avoidance of the topic and not the way his heart began to race whenever he so much as thought of it. Not at all.</p><p>The Dark flared out ahead of him as it hailed one of the elevators to their position, and it settled around the bell mechanism when the doors slid open, muffling the sound as the child slept on peacefully. The doors slid closed, and he returned his attention to the treasure of treasures still tucked against his chest, sleeping soundly underneath his mantle in a manner so eerily similar to that horrific day over a week ago. And yet…</p><p>He gently brushed a thumb over the little one’s arm as he held Luke just a little closer, earning him a hum of contentment.</p><p>And yet, right now he felt nothing but peace as the little star nestled back into his heart the moment he opened it up to him once more.</p><p>The elevator slowed, and he didn’t even have to direct the Dark to ensure that it muffled the sound of the chime once more. The doors slid open, and he stepped into the nearly deserted lobby of the Officers’ wing of the middeck rear.</p><p>The Troopers manning the station snapped to hasty attention once they caught sight of him, but aside from a nod in acknowledgment to Reesan and Stitch, he strode past them without a word and into the hallways of the Officers’ wing.</p><p>His heavy tread was muffled once he reached the carpeted halls of the higher-ranking quarters, and before long, he had reached the nondescript and yet, oh so familiar door.</p><p>The Dark unlatched the lock on the door effortlessly, and as the door slid open, he realized abruptly that he was entering the little star’s quarters for the first time since he had left his gift for Luke. It brought some trepidation to his heart.</p><p>Shaking the feeling off as both useless and entirely irrational, he resolutely stepped through the door and—</p><p>Nearly froze when he saw what was displayed centerpiece on the caff table in the small seating area.</p><p>The shiranaa tree, in all its glory, with two blank, black cards situated next to them.</p><p>Intellectually, he had known that Luke had kept his gift.</p><p>Understanding it was a whole different matter.</p><p>And here it was, in full display for one and all to see. Even his clumsy attempts at writing the appropriate cards to accompany it had been kept and displayed with what seemed to be a sense of pride and distinction, something that he knew what to do with even less than the strange tangle of emotions that was starting to bloom in his chest. Relief, acceptance, joy, pride, and l— love.</p><p>He stared at that tree for what was likely far too long until the door behind him began to slide shut of its own volition.</p><p>Nearly startling at the sudden movement, he abruptly remembered what he was here for and, glancing down at the precious bundle still held securely in his arms, he wondered how he could ever forget.</p><p>Shaking off the last residual emotions from that… encounter, he stepped forward into the living room and into where he knew the bedroom to be.</p><p>The Dark easily scouted ahead and pulled the door open, allowing him and Luke to pass through without hassle into the small bedroom beyond. In the room it was dark, or at least, the color shift in his HUD told him that it was.</p><p>It hardly mattered to him, though.</p><p>Quickly locating the bed, he drew the covers back with an easy wave of the Dark, and, still wrapped in his mantle, he lowered Luke onto the bed, taking care to remove both the flower crown and boots from the little star as he did so. The boots went to the end of the bed, the crown to the nightstand where the metallic paint sparkled dimly in the light coming in from the doorway, and the little star went into the bed itself.</p><p>Carefully untucking the mantle from around Luke, he drew in the covers over the soundly sleeping child, tucking them in along the sides to prevent the cold from getting in. And then—</p><p>And then it was time to leave.</p><p>Stroking a hand over the little star’s hair, he took in the sight of the peacefully sleeping child one last time, before reluctantly pulling away and making his way to the door. He didn’t even make it the first three steps before distress began to emanate within the Force and quiet whimpers made themselves heard in tandem with the distraught chirps of the little star.</p><p>Turning around, his heart clenched when he could already see the upset grimace forming on Luke's face, soft noises dropping from the twitching mouth. On instinct, he stepped forward, intending to see the distress gone and the little one once more at peace, but the moment he did so, the frown began to smoothen out once more.</p><p>Tilting his head in curiosity, he took that same step back again, and immediately the distress flared again. Ah. Of course.</p><p>Stepping back to the bedside, he fidgeted for a moment about what to do before sighing deeply and sinking to the floor in his favored meditation pose. As he settled in, the distress in the Force fully eased and peaceful rest returned to Luke's signature, which chirped contently. He had been right then, strangely enough.</p><p>Carding a hand through the child’s hair, he wondered at the being that could sleep soundly in his presence and miss it when he left. He huffed out a silent laugh. Truly, a wonderous child.</p><p>A wondrous, astonishing, <em>impossible</em> child.</p><p>Dropping his hand from Luke's hair, he thought about how he should likely attempt to leave anyways. Regular life would resume from now on, and Luke would once again sleep in his own quarters, their schedules wildly diverging besides. It really wouldn’t do to indulge in this when it, quite clearly, would be best to end it now, but—</p><p>But.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>But he did not wish to leave. And it clearly caused distress to Luke for him to attempt to, and—</p><p>And he never claimed not to be a selfish person.</p><p>Huffing out a silent breath, he settled in more soundly next to the bed. It wasn’t his meditation chamber, and he would not be able to remove his mask to aid in the meditation, but, looking at the small, peacefully slumbering form of Luke, the conclusion that none of that mattered was an easy one.</p><p><em>It likely wasn’t wise to do this,</em> he thought as he began to sink into deep meditation by Luke's side, the little star already cheeping contently in his little heart nest. But then, he had never claimed to be wise either, and he wore the scars of that fact as armor each and every day.</p><p>And maybe there would be consequences down the line for this. And maybe they would be far beyond what he could expect.</p><p>But for now, he would stay by the little star’s bedside this one time, and keep the iridescent core safely tucked away in his heart, the Dark crooning with satisfaction as it wrapped warmth and comfort around child.</p><p>For now, they could have tonight.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaaand curtain. </p><p>Well, then. What did you think? Blood, sweat, tears, and more than one prayer went into this chapter to let it work out, and even though I say it myself, I dare say it was worth it. </p><p>Next week is the epilogue for this installment, how time flies, hm? Not to worry, work has already started on the fourth installment, though unfortunately this one will be a bit of a longer wait than this installment was due to personal circumstances. There'll be more information next week on Sunday though, so to one and all; I'll see you there. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. For All That We Fear, We Must Try</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nearly five months in the making and it's finally here: the finale, the epilogue, the end. But not yet. First, we join Luke one last time on his journey of discovery, an unexpected visit from the past, and a final solidification of resolve that will shake the galaxy to its core.</p>
<p>Ladies, Gents, and Honors, allow me to enchant you into another world one last time as we say goodbye to this installment of the series with one final hurrah.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are then. </p>
<p>Nearly five months in the making for you all, and <i>so</i> much longer for me. This is it, the end of the story, the final chapter, the great bow before curtain call. But don't grieve this story just yet. This series <i>will</i> continue on, and I'm already furiously writing away at the sequel to this one. I will tell more of the projected upcoming changes and potential wait times at the end of this chapter, as well as how you can keep tab on me and my progress if you so choose.</p>
<p>But that is for later.</p>
<p>For now, allow me to take you along for this ride one final time as I wish you this above all else in your reading: <i>enjoy.</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘—And that is how to properly friction stir weld a corner joint!’ Luke said with a bright smile as he tilted the finished result underneath the overhead camera, shutting down the welder machine and flipping up his face mask. ‘Like this, the tension strength increases exponentially and you don’t have to worry about the inherent instability of your hands due to your heart pumping blood through your veins, which allows you to control the torch better. It also, of course, makes for a straighter weld line that has less potential fracture points.’</p>
<p>He put down the finished durasteel corner example and picked up the welding “torch” again, flipping it to show the tool’s welding probe. ‘As you can see, it also produces less wear on the equipment,’ he pointed out as he trailed his pinky along the edge of the FSW torch. ‘There’s less signs of disintegration on the welding probe and shoulders, which means it can be used more often before replacement. I tried the regulations method taught to you people, and in my experience this method makes your welding bit last about three to four times longer, so it’s nothing to sniff at and should allow you to get more out of your FSW torch.’</p>
<p>He set the torch down again and clapped his hands together in lieu of smiling at the camera that couldn’t even see him. ‘And that’s about the long and short of it,’ he said happily as he began to wrap up the video. ‘If you still have any questions, let me know, and I’ll either add a footnote or make a supplementary video. As always, I expect you all to wear your safety gear and to check your equipment before use, and I wish you the very best of luck.’</p>
<p>With that, he reached up to the overhead camera and cut the footage, a short chirp telling him that the footage had been saved and stored. Sighing happily, he stripped off his thick protective gloves and ran a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>It’d been a few days since the party, and while the mess hall had been back to the usual SNAFU the next day, the high spirits originating from it were still lingering in the air, lightening the atmosphere into something welcoming and pleasant.</p>
<p>People seemed to smile more, and Luke hadn’t been able to go anywhere so far without dozens of passing greetings, many newly-familiar faces from the festival amongst them, and Luke could admit to himself that it filled him with warmth to see the surprised delight on their faces when he returned their greeting by Name.</p>
<p>There had been something new in those kinds of greetings as well, a kind of respect and something he would almost describe as reverence, for lack of better word, that made the sands in the back of his mind sing in triumph. He hadn’t quite known what to do with that, and when he had mentioned it to Vader when asking for advice, the man had just laughed and told him to go along with it.</p>
<p>Apparently, many of the Troopers and Crewmates did something similar for him, and it was meant as a sign of respect and faith in his abilities. Or at least, that was what Vader had been able to make of it, as people usually got cagey when asked about it, even in more subtle manners.</p>
<p>Speaking of Vader…</p>
<p>He huffed out a breath as he remembered the last few days. Waking up the day after the festival with Vader still guarding his sleep had been an exercise in balance as both fondness and the embarrassment of the realization that he had clung to the man like he was wont to do in less coherent states had warred within him.</p>
<p>On the one hand, Vader had stayed, and hadn’t so much as made a single complaint in the morning for having spent the night seated on the floor of Luke's room. On the other hand, he’d apparently latched on hard enough to the man’s presence while groggy with exhaustion and some residual worry that his Home had felt incapable of leaving him.</p>
<p>Needless to say, the morning had consisted of several awkward apologies and explanations on his part as well as amused and mild reassurances on Vader's part. It had been the last time Vader guarded his sleep, both of them returning to some semblance of normal, but Luke could admit to the fact that some part of him missed the comforting dark presence of the man enveloping him in his sleep like the softest and thickest of blankets. Okay, most of him. Most of him missed it.</p>
<p>On the other hand, something had definitely shifted in their relationship, and he couldn’t ever recall having anything quite like it before. Not even Biggs had felt this much like they were living between each other’s heartbeats sometimes, as if something had intertwined within them in this whole ordeal that went deeper than words could really describe. Something that felt fundamental and essential to who he was.</p>
<p>Like there was a— a string— no, multiple strings running between them. Threads of their own tapestry of life unraveling and reaching across the pale to weave into that of the other, and it felt like he found more and more of his own threads reaching out across and meeting Vader's own threads in the middle. Felt like it would be so, so easy to just reach out and unravel a whole ream of himself to stretch across that space where he ended and something else began. Like he could just reach out and strengthen those threads until it was less like interwoven tapestries and more like two dyes bleeding into each other, never to be separated.</p>
<p>It would be <em>so easy,</em> and some part of him that was unconcerned with the consequences screamed at him to take the leap, to just do it and <em>damn</em> what came after.</p>
<p>But he couldn’t.</p>
<p>Not until Vader was Free. Not until he was sure binding himself to his Home in that manner wouldn’t also bind him to the man’s Master.</p>
<p>He sighed as he hit the transfer button on the side of the camera, footage transferring to his data workstation for further processing and editing so it could be added to the budding archive he was building. Frankly speaking, even what he was doing now was already playing a very dangerous game. Each thread of himself that wove into Vader, and each thread that the man wove into him in return was a threat to his Freedom in and of itself, a hundred tiny hooks in him that, if his Home’s Master ever found out about, could prove to be catastrophic.</p>
<p>
  <em>But.</em>
</p>
<p>It could prove equally catastrophic to Vader's Master.</p>
<p>Vader had a hundred hooks in Luke that pulled him ever closer to his Home, day by day, but equally, <em>Luke </em>had his own hooks in Vader, and he could tell that he was pulling on the man just as surely as he was being pulled on, drawing each other into an orbit while escaping the pull of the black hole of greed and gluttony that would devour them both whole for what they could give.</p>
<p>As long as said black hole remained unaware of that fact long enough for Luke to craft a plan, they would survive. They might even thrive.</p>
<p>Which he still didn’t even have the faintest inkling of how to accomplish.</p>
<p>He groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face, flopping down into the bureau chair in front of his data workstation and opening the file containing the raw footage. Vader was chainblind, yes, but even if he hadn’t been, Luke could already see that this would be the single most challenging Flight he could have possibly taken on. For one thing, Vader missed one of the main advantages his usual charges had and in fact, had the entirely opposite of it: anonymity.</p>
<p>Slaves usually weren’t regarded as anything much at all by their Masters, merely part of the backdrop like furniture or machinery, only there when needed and barely something to think of at any other point. There were exceptions to that rule, obviously, but rule of thumb went that a Master wouldn’t be able to pick out a former slave—even one they had kept chained as a cherished possession—from a crowd if even the barest of changes were made to a slave’s appearance. Different clothes, a change in posture and attitude, a wash to remove the grime from the skin or a dust bath to scruff them up, it was all usually enough to make them evade notice at a glance.</p>
<p>Not Vader.</p>
<p>His mentor was the face of the empire in more ways than one, and the darling of the PR department if one could make such a judgement based on the sheer amount of recruitment posters bore his image. Suns, even on Tatooine Luke had known what his Home had looked like due to the sheer extent of which his face was near-ubiquitous in the empire and—</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>Luke froze in his seat as he went over that last thought one more time, something hissing with the sour tone of an oversight.</p>
<p>Vader's face…</p>
<p>Vader's <em>mask.</em></p>
<p>The winds of the Storm sang with triumph in mind as he bolted upright in his chair, footage forgotten as a wild, dangerous, and utterly insane thought took hold in his mind.</p>
<p>Vader's face was ubiquitous in the empire. But the face they knew was his <em>mask.</em> And for all that he’d never seen the man without it, it <em>had</em> to be removable in some fashion or other, which meant that it could be changed. Modified.</p>
<p>
  <em>Reinvented</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p>
<p>Vader, as he stood now, was perhaps <em>the</em> most recognizable man currently alive. But if Luke could figure out how to create something, anything that could take over the medical functions of the suit…</p>
<p>He already had one hurdle down.</p>
<p>Shivering as something shifted in his mind, he felt a chill run down his back as he thought the plan through. It would take a lot of work, more than he perhaps had ever poured into anything, as he didn’t know the first thing about engineering medical equipment beyond what had been shown to him by Vader while working on his own prosthesis, but…</p>
<p>He had several weeks of light duty ahead of him. If there was ever a time to study up, it would be now.</p>
<p>Tapping his fingers along the edge of his workstation, the sound of enamel against steel filling the room, Luke thought of what he would need to start learning as he sank back into his chair. Rubbing a hand over his chin, he began to go over what he knew about the nature of Vader's injuries.</p>
<p>The man was a quadruple amputee by his own admission, and had sustained critical fire damage in the past that was severe enough to put him into the suit that he was now known by, injured to the point that apparently not even bacta and the empire’s best—</p>
<p>Luke froze as his train of thoughts screeched to a halt in its tracks.</p>
<p>Best?</p>
<p>Something grated within his mind, like a port that wouldn’t fit its slot or two gears spinning out of sync, not matching quite the whole way.</p>
<p>Best… he assumed that the medical attention Vader had gotten was the best but… why?</p>
<p>Vader's medical treatment would have been given to him by his <em>Master</em> and Masters didn’t— they didn’t—</p>
<p>
  <em>Suns fucking Fire.</em>
</p>
<p>Something angry and molten settled into Luke's stomach, just in time for his heart to drop into it as his blood boiled at the thought that had jumped to the forefront, taunting and whispering of something that seemed so at odds with the way everything in the empire was the hoarded results of hard labor of millions of inventors and researchers and engineers like him. Cutting, bleeding edge, the greatest of the greatest—</p>
<p>Or so they wanted you to believe.</p>
<p>Hadn’t he proven otherwise?</p>
<p>He growled low in his throat as his thoughts began to lead him down a dangerous path.</p>
<p>A dangerous path that made something inside him shriek with rage.</p>
<p>The empire tended to have the latest tech in all manner of things, and the resources to replace it with the latest model whenever the old one broke, true, but—</p>
<p>But they only did so with the things they <em>valued.</em></p>
<p>They didn’t value the TIE Pilots. They didn’t value the Crewmates. They sure as <em>hell</em> didn’t value the Stormtroopers.</p>
<p>And Masters <em>never</em> valued their slaves. Not where it <em>mattered.</em></p>
<p>And what the empire didn’t value, they created once, only once, and then drove to the point of— of—</p>
<p>Of breaking.</p>
<p>And <em>discarding.</em></p>
<p>He closed his eyes. <em>Mind be still, and heart be strong.</em> Deep breaths. <em>Mind be still, and heart be strong.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Deep breaths.</em>
</p>
<p>Suns and <em>sand,</em> he wished he could Name the emperor his Enemy!</p>
<p>Letting his growl sharpen into an outright <em>snarl,</em> he dismissed the file of video footage from his station and opened up the holonet, needing to confirm something. Within seconds he had set up the filters for the image search he had in mind, and typing in the keywords, he watched as his computer began to pull up image after image from eighteen years ago.</p>
<p>When Darth Vader had first entered the galactic stage.</p>
<p>He pursed his lips as he began to sort through them, discarding all the blurry, grainy shots from journalists and paparazzi alike trying to get a glimpse of the “mysterious newcomer” to the empire, until at last, he found a holo that came from an official press release, introducing his mentor to the galaxy at large. It was from the official imperial archives, and he pursed his lips as he hesitated clicking through, something shivering in the back of his mind at something… off.</p>
<p>He knew better than to ignore it this time.</p>
<p>Backing out of the search, he opened up the guts of his computer’s connection with the holonet and began strategically altering and erasing a few lines of code, namely, any identifiers on his digital trail through the holonet’s archives. His personal ID code as required by regulations, his workshop code, even his ship codes were all carefully erased. He would reinstate them later, but for now, he needed to be as unremarkable and nondescript as could be.</p>
<p>He hesitated on erasing the identifying code for Death Squadron though. He didn’t want to be identified, yes, but… a search for Darth Vader done from his own personal fleet? Especially if he coded his IDs to look like that of a standard issue comm? There was as little suspicion about that as there was about breathing, and not the kind Vader did either.</p>
<p>Grinning as he inputted the codes that would allow him to present himself as an ordinary Crewmate aboard the Tyrant, he hit enter and watched his alterations load in. Much of his advanced access would be cut off until he reinstated his proper codes, or simply went dark, but for this he hardly needed it. For this, he needed to blend in with the crowd.</p>
<p>Getting back into the search, he clicked the redirection link into the imperial public archives and was satisfied when the no warning came against the action. It seemed that whatever had been watching him had successfully been shaken off, at least for the moment.</p>
<p>Downloading the image of Vader at the highest resolution he could get, he proceeded with the rest of his plan and searched for similar images through later years. 2 ISC, 3 ISC, 7 ISC, 12 ISC, 16 ISC… there were pictures of Vader at the definitions he was looking for practically everywhere, and he quickly grabbed the ones he needed from the relevant timeframes before backing out of the archives and search, taking care to scrub the images of any metadata before he reverted his codes.</p>
<p>Pressing his lips into a thin line as he sorted through the images, he began to compile them into a timeline, setting them side by side and—</p>
<p>He’d really hoped that he hadn’t been about to find what he just had.</p>
<p>Suns and sand.</p>
<p>He sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his face, looking at the images of his mentor through the years.</p>
<p>Now he could be wrong about many things. It could be that the suits were purposely designed to look the same to preserve the image that was <em>Darth Vader,</em> Fist of the Empire, Specter of the Battlefields, <em>The Black Death,</em> and that the technology inside of them had been steadily advancing but—</p>
<p>But from all that he had seen of the empire, he thought that applying Occam’s razor to this issue brought about the far more likely answer.</p>
<p>It was also the answer that was making his blood simmer in a low boil and something inside him <em>snarl</em> in rage.</p>
<p>His Home had been living with the same medical equipment for over <em>eighteen years.</em> Eighteen years, and judging by the fact that he <em>knew</em> that Vader's suit regularly sustained damage in battle and had to be replaced or repaired, it wasn’t even the same suit.</p>
<p>Which meant that he’d been given the exact same medical technology again and again, for the last <em>eighteen years.</em> Medical technology that Luke <em>knew</em> to be outdated from the fact that Vader had repeatedly <em>told him</em> that his own prosthesis would be a step up from what the man had.</p>
<p>Suns, how was he only now putting all of this together?</p>
<p>He groaned as he dropped his head down to his workstation with a soft thunk. He knew why, of course. He wasn’t blind to the fact that losing a hand and the recovery process had made him unable to… really consider everyone else’s situation while his own had still been so dire, but even the comforting words of his Aunt that told him he couldn’t pour from an empty cup didn’t mitigate the irrational shame he felt at having missed all of this.</p>
<p>Thunking his head against the workstation once more for good measure, he roundly trounced those irrational thoughts with the fact that he knew <em>now,</em> and could start to make a difference <em>now.</em></p>
<p>Even if he wished he had known just a bit earlier. He heaved in a deep breath and sighed it out, lifting his head up from where he’d let it drop. Well, no matter now. What’s done was done, and he had too much work ahead of him to allow shame to have anything to do with it. Then there was of course the matter that a new appearance did not a plan make, but at least he had finally found the place to start planning his Home’s Flight. Medical equipment.</p>
<p>Well, at least it wasn’t a small thing he had found. He would need to start deepening his understanding of how the human body (and he was… fairly certain that Vader was human, even if some of the things he could do seemed to be pretty out of the blue) and what kind of medical equipment would be needed for injuries like Vader's.</p>
<p>Which brought him to the second point: he would need to recruit someone aware of the extent of the man’s injuries who wasn’t in the pocket of Vader's Master and who would be willing to point him in the right direction in regards to what he would need to research in order to make Vader's medical equipment. At least he had a good suspicion of where he would be able to find someone like that, or someone who would know who he needed to ask, even if they didn’t know the information themselves. The only question would be whether or not Kix would be willing to help him out.</p>
<p>Clicking his tongue as he noted down a reminder to speak to Kix during his next checkup, he began to formulate a plan as to how he would be able to gather knowledge of the medical equipment necessary without raising any red flags amongst his mentor’s potential watchers. He would need to fake a paper trail to convince any watchers that his interest in medical equipment was entirely unrelated to Vader's own situation and, well…</p>
<p>Looking down at his own right hand as he idly fiddled with his comm unit, he grinned as he thought that, for all that he still had… mixed feelings about his own arm on occasion, at least he couldn’t have asked for a more air-tight alibi if he tried.</p>
<p>Rolling his shoulders, he opened up his notepad on his comm, set on the dictation feature, and pulled up both his video footage file and editing software, determined to get some work done while he brainstormed as well. It would be a good familiar exercise for keeping his hands busy, if nothing else.</p>
<p>Cutting, recutting, and polishing up the footage to archive quality while he occasionally murmured the beginnings of a plan to himself and his comm, Luke began to make steady progress along both checklists.</p>
<p>Clean up the audio, list what would be needed to run a clean Flight, cut and recut the footage, contemplate which people he would trust to help him in arranging everything, figure out the beats of the video to ensure that it ran smoothly, ponder how he would need to evade his charge’s Master and drawing blanks… Honestly, if it weren’t for his surroundings and the fact that the Master he was aiming to outwit was the very emperor of the known galaxy himself, he would’ve thought he was back on Tatooine, working on the next episode of Scrap Hunting while planning out a Flight on Jabba’s own slave quarters.</p>
<p>In the end, he had another finished video for the archive and the skeletal outlines of a plan. He would need to think more on it all, and resign himself to the fact that this particular Flight might take months upon months—if not <em>years</em>—to pull off, but he was determined to make it work and stubborn enough to try.</p>
<p>“Aggressive caring,” as his Uncle called it, had its advantages. One of which was that with lives on the line, he could bite into a problem and not let go until it yielded.</p>
<p>Hitting the enter key, the video titled “How To Friction Stir Weld A Corner Joint” went live and added itself to the archive, the third of the day so far.</p>
<p>Scrolling through the archive he’d made so far, he grinned as he went through the seven other videos already in the archive, each only fifteen minutes long or less, where he’d demonstrated proper soldering techniques, the ways to cut and weld various dissimilar materials, structuring polymers, and many other such things.</p>
<p>So far they seemed to have been well-received, and he spent more than a little time fielding questions from his various Corps members who wanted to pick his brain on all nitty-gritty details of engineering work. He hadn’t received any kind of hate mail yet, and neither had anyone given him the cold shoulder or the evil eye, so he could assume that he wasn’t secretly being resented and undermined by his own people with some degree of confidence, and really? After years of posting to the holonet, that was better than he expected this to go.</p>
<p>Closing out the archive and editing software while locking the notes he’d made on his comm behind three different layers of encryption and passwords, Luke pushed off from the workstation and stretched languidly, swiveling his chair around. That concluded that for the day. Any more and Erribas would likely come marching in and remind him off his Medic’s orders. Speaking of which…</p>
<p>Stretching out his prosthetic hand and performing the hand exercises Tai'li had advised him to do while he walked, he began running over his mental list of what else he could do for the day. Working was out, as he’d already completed what little he was allowed and Erribas had made it more than clear that they could and <em>would</em> inform Vader if he wasn’t adhering to his recovery orders, the traitor.</p>
<p>Still, that left a whole host of other things for him to do, one of which he was seriously considering at the moment.</p>
<p>Fingering the pendant around his neck, he thought of playing a working song or two for his Corps while they were performing their duties.</p>
<p>Ever since he’d revealed at the festival that he was, according to his Corps, “a damn fine singer,” he received more than one request for an encore or a song of some kind. Something which had frankly surprised him at first, but everyone had been so utterly genuine and hopeful in their requests for music that he hadn’t really been able to find it in himself to say no.</p>
<p>So these last few days he’d spent a not-insignificant portion of his time singing and playing his ocarina for his people, the cavernous nature of the main hangar making his one voice or instrument carry farther than it did even across the plains or through the mountains back home, reaching more people without him ever having to move a muscle.</p>
<p>Grinning slightly, he resolved to pick a song with as good of a beat as he was able to produce on any instrument that wasn’t a percussion instrument.</p>
<p>Maybe he should ask his Aunt and Uncle to send him one of those now that he had the money to afford an extra instrument? Perhaps a kalimba like Aunt Beru played? He had some practice on it, and the tones you could produce with the little thing were something he had loved to fall asleep to when he’d been a kid. If nothing else, it would support the instrument makers in the Wastes.</p>
<p>Musing over the choices to be made while the back of his mind still lingered on the plans now hidden on his comm, he opened the new and improved blast doors that once more guarded his workshop (with added security measures in place. Just in case).</p>
<p>Walking out the doors and into the hallway outside, Luke greeted the Engineers still working away at repairing the damage done by Vader in his rampage to get to him, over two weeks ago. The damage left from the gouges in the walls wasn’t particularly deep, but it was both extensive and time consuming to repair, something that he had pointedly read out loud to the man when he had gone to give a report on the progress made on the things <em>he</em> broke.</p>
<p>It had eventually devolved into them arguing back and forth over what the superior method of repairing the damage was, which had then devolved even <em>further </em>from there until they were <em>both</em> complaining about the method the regs said was the best, but an attempt had been made by him. That probably counted for something, yes?</p>
<p>Making his way into the main hangar where, finally, finally, <em>finally</em> the ATR-6s were getting their heat shielding and heat reduction upgrades, Luke looked around at his people with a small smile.</p>
<p><em>His</em> people.</p>
<p>Even if it had been more than proven in the last two weeks that there were more people aboard who wanted him as an Enemy than expected, he had also learned that those people were outnumbered a thousand to one by the people who wanted him as a <em>friend.</em> Who accepted and wanted him amongst them for the exact same reasons that others wanted him dead.</p>
<p>And the others hadn’t survived the Law of the Desert, leaving him as the last part of a conflict he hadn’t even known had existed.</p>
<p>Him, and the thousands upon thousands of people who had apparently chosen his side.</p>
<p>He would prove himself worthy of that choice. One step at a time.</p>
<p>Greeting his people as he walked through the drydocks holding the massive ships, sparks flying all around as layer upon layer of newly-developed heat shielding was applied, he searched for a place to station himself where the music would be able to reach the most people.</p>
<p>Eventually, he decided on the pile of containers and assorted clutter situated in a cross-section between the rows of drydocks. Stacked high into a rough pyramid-esque shape, the topmost crate was nearly level with the top of the nearby ATR-6s, a good handful of meters off the ground. The perfect post if you wanted to be heard.</p>
<p>Grinning, he took a small running start and leaped onto the first spool of steel-cable as thick as his arm, keeping his balance as he threw his weight up and over the edge of the container it was leaning against. Running up the side of said container a few steps and clamping down his hands on the edge above him, he was incredibly grateful that Vader had apparently taken this sort of use of his hand into consideration. His prosthesis clutched the edge with the unrelenting grip of a krayt’s jaws and he didn’t doubt that if he really tried, he might even be able to dent the container with it.</p>
<p>Smiling grimly, he hauled himself up onto the container with ease. It wasn’t his real hand, and it would likely never quite match up to it, no matter how pleasantly it sang whenever he focused on it, but it had its uses. And clearly, it would pull its weight when it came to helping Luke out in his day-to-day life.</p>
<p>He could learn to live with it.</p>
<p><a id="back22" name="back22"></a>Clambering to the top of the towering stack of crates with swift ease, he looked out over the rows upon rows of ATR-6s getting modified in the large drydocks, the high vantage point even allowing him to see over and between the dozens of ships as the air was alive with the clanging, shrieking, and rasping of tools. Breathing in the distinct and sharp smell of burning metal while sparks flew everywhere around him, Luke smiled brightly while taking a seat on the edge of the container, overlooking the great ships crawling with Engineers. Walking over the tops, balancing on the edges with the same fearlessness of the mountain irrex <a href="#note22"><sup>[22]</sup></a> back home, making leaps between the ships in their row like gravity couldn’t touch them. They hung from the sides and crawled under the bellies of the ship as they did their work, and Luke, quite frankly, couldn’t be prouder of being allowed to lead these people.</p>
<p>But for now, he was relegated to the sidelines until Tai'li said that he’d recovered enough to resume his full duties, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t support them in different ways.</p>
<p>Pulling out his ocarina and setting his fingers to the tone holes, he took a deep breath, and began to play.</p>
<p>A low, trembling note coursed through the air, and he smiled against the mouth piece when he heard several cheers rise up from around the hangar, more than one calling his name as he began a cheerful tune with a rhythmic beat to it. It wasn’t a work song like he had been taught by his Aunt and Siblings, but it was a song that anyone in the navy would know, and sure enough, over the clanking of tools that began to grow more and more rhythmical as he provided the guideline of notes, the call-and-response of the work song began to echo through the air.</p>
<p><em>‘Oh with a stick and spanner, we work under a banner, of a cog, that keeps us moving on,’</em> a couple of deep, sonorous voices began to sing, and Luke was pleasantly surprised when he recognized Erribas as one of them. <em>‘And though the day is long, and we only have our song</em><em>—’</em></p>
<p><em>‘They keep us working on,’</em> the other Engineers echoed back, holding the last tone until it could be felt in the very metal they were working with.</p>
<p><em>‘Oh with some oil and some grease, we need no thanks or please, as we upkeep, the ships we stand upon,’</em> the call team sang, the rhythm growing more and more elaborate and other Engineers became aware of what was happening and synced up their own work to the beat. <em>‘But as the engines roar, and our starships proudly soar—’</em></p>
<p><em>‘They keep us working on,’</em> the response singers droned as Luke slipped some grace notes into the song that, with the encouraging cheers of his Corps, turned into a short solo melody before the song continued.</p>
<p><em>‘Oh with a bolt and a screw, they’ll shout and cuss at you, and tell us, that it never mattered all,’ </em>they sang cheerfully, <em>‘But when the engines fail, and it’s up to us to blaze the trail—’</em></p>
<p><em>‘They keep us working on,’</em> his Corps sang, a small sliver of smugness in the air amidst the triumphant song, and Luke barely kept from laughing as they continued on that way.</p>
<p>They all kept it up for a good long while, the singers occasionally falling silent when Luke began another verse in the song, cheering him on when he pushed his little pendant’s limits in the pitch it could produce. Trills and crescendos, rapid fire jumps between octaves that nearly had him fumble his instrument while something sang with the voice of the Storm in the back of his mind<em>—</em>it was an exhilarating thing to do while his people worked away at their tasks.</p>
<p>Exhilarating enough, in fact, that he didn’t notice the dark presence at the corners of his awareness had come a lot closer until he played out the last note, his Corps taking a moment to applaud and cheer at the cooperative performance they’d all just given. Smiling at his people, he followed the whisp of darkness at the edge of his mind downwards, and smiled even wider when he saw a familiar black presence looking up at him from the base of the container pyramid, fondness and pride brushing up against him.</p>
<p>Nodding back down to acknowledge that he was now aware of Vader's presence, his mentor tilted his head sideways with a little jerking gesture, urging him to come down.</p>
<p>Tucking his pendant back into his overalls and giving everything a quick stretch, Luke shot a quick gesture of warning to Vader and hopped off of the edge, not surprised in the slightest when he only fell a couple of centimeters before he was caught in the same intangible embrace that had lowered him off of the stage at the festival only a couple of days ago.</p>
<p>Ever since then, whenever Vader came to look for him and he’d managed to get up or under somewhere, the man now made use of this inexplicable ability of his after Luke had signaled his complete non-issue with it being used on him. He’d almost asked what it was, but something… something had shifted its attention towards him once he’d begun contemplating that. Something that he’d felt before.</p>
<p>It wasn’t his patron the Storm, that much was for certain, and it was none of the five Moons and Suns either, or the Desert. He’d felt their presence before and this was… something different. Something that had followed him since his very first memories, sometimes that whispered along with the Storm and the Desert when he called upon them.</p>
<p>He’d avoided it so far, as something in him <em>knew</em> that once he answered, he would never, ever be able to turn back. The road would be one for which he would <em>have</em> to follow to the end once he’d set the first step.</p>
<p>A road whose end he could not see, even in his dreams. Dreams which had only ever shown him an endless void, blacker than black, and a single spark, sleeping in a heart of darkness.</p>
<p>No matter how many times he’d had this dream when he’d asked the Desert what his end would be if he followed the Thing down the path it was urging, it had never changed, or gotten any clearer.</p>
<p>So for now, when that something stirred, he backed off, went the other way, until it had gone back to sleep again or lost interest in him. Perhaps it could be called cowardice, but he had responsibilities to uphold, people relying on him, and Vows to keep. And as much as his curiosity tempted him… there would be a later for it, hopefully, but there might never be a later for his Siblings and Home if he went off to follow the Thing down a path unknown.</p>
<p>Which meant that the question of how Vader was able to perform his feats of wizardry was kept a mystery. For now.</p>
<p>Floating through the air while being carried with all the care one would expect for a newborn kitten, he could satisfy himself with knowing that whatever it was, it was clearly <em>Vader</em> down to the core.</p>
<p>Smiling at the man while he was carefully set on the ground, he felt the strange sense of looking down to the familiar mask one moment and up at it another. Vader tilted his head at him as well, and a sense of warmth and something incredibly fond wrapped around him like a hug in greeting, much to Luke's delight.</p>
<p>‘Hey,’ he greeted quietly, taking up his usual spot at Vader's side, standing close enough to lean against him while the man angled himself to make a little nook for Luke to fit into.</p>
<p>A soft hum of static greeted him as the warmth wrapped tighter for just a moment. ‘Hello, little one,’ Vader rumbled back, quiet and content. ‘That was quite the performance.’</p>
<p>He shrugged a shoulder and flashed an unrepentant, lopsided grin. ‘They like the music, and who am I to deny them?’</p>
<p>‘Their Head Engineer, little one,’ Vader returned drily.</p>
<p>He adopted a surprised expression like that had just occurred to him, and he could already feel the amusement begin to well up next to him. ‘Really? Then I guess shouldn’t have let them get away with brewing alcohol in the empty oil drums either, huh?’</p>
<p>‘Only if you desire to have a mutiny on your hands,’ Vader retorted easily, voice rumbling more than usual as laughter wove its way through it.</p>
<p>‘True,’ Luke agreed blithely, ‘A drink a day keeps the “accidental airlock malfunction” at bay.’</p>
<p>Rumbling out a short burst of a static laugh, Vader placed a hand on his shoulder and began to lead him out of the drydocks and to the adjacent elevator station. ‘Very much so,’ he agreed easily, ‘You learn your wisdom fast, little one.’</p>
<p>‘As any Desert Child does,’ he agreed quietly, ‘But aside from all that, what did you come to get me for?’</p>
<p>Vader rumbled out a short sound as they made their way into the station, a whisp of something… odd made itself known in the presence of the man, a tangle of emotions that Luke couldn’t readily identify. ‘A few days back a matter was brought to my attention. Apparently, <em>someone</em> had breached the communications blockade while the lockdown of the ship had still been in effect. A breach which bore a very distinctive ID code,’ Vader noted, angling his mask down just a tad so that he would be able to give Luke a look from the corner of his eyes that could be felt even through the lenses and—</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Luke winced as he remembered how it had been surprisingly difficult to get his messages to send while he’d been in the recovery wing. ‘That… was a blockade?’ he asked carefully, stepping into the elevator Vader guided him to.</p>
<p>The vocoder droned out a long sound of static in a sigh that was distinctly exasperate. ‘Are you telling me you did not realize that you were bypassing a communications blockade, little one?’ Vader asked him, the air a complicated mix of something stunned and curious as the doors slid closed.</p>
<p>Luke rubbed a hand along the back of his neck as he nodded. ‘I mean, I <em>did</em> think that it was unusually difficult to get a message to go through, but—’</p>
<p>‘Luke,’ Vader interrupted bluntly, ‘Are you meaning to tell me that you have been sending messages to your family from deep space <em>without</em> submitting them to the communications department for screening?’</p>
<p>He winced. ‘Kinda?’</p>
<p>Vader stared at him, emotions warring around them as his mentor processed that statement. ‘How.’</p>
<p>He fidgeted in place under the man’s gaze and rubbed his neck again. ‘Uhh, I… may or may not have… thought that the rerouting of my messages was a glitch? And… fixed it?’ he admitted nervously. A train of thought that was a bit ridiculous now that he thought about it, but nine months ago it had seemed to make perfect sense.</p>
<p>He really should have reevaluated that assessment sooner.</p>
<p>Vader stared at him in complete silence for a while before sighing out a long, deep blare of static. ‘I do not know whether to disapprove of your flagrant disregard for the rules, or be proud that you managed to do so successfully and utterly undetected for this long, little one,’ Vader stated flatly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down pointedly at Luke, who winced at the words.</p>
<p>‘The second one?’ he tried tentatively while looking up into the red lenses, feeling the air around him waver as he did so. ‘Please?’</p>
<p>Vader tilted his head down even further, and Luke got the distinct impression of a supremely unimpressed look. ‘You will close the backdoor you created, and you will show the Communications Officers exactly what you did to breach their security like this <em>twice, </em>as well as any other additional weak points,’ he ordered flatly, and Luke nodded dejectedly.</p>
<p>‘I will,’ he agreed quietly as the elevator doors slid open and allowed them through, already missing the easy chatting with his friends and family back home, but he got the feeling that this was completely non-negotiable.</p>
<p>Vader sighed again. ‘And as for your communications…’ he continued, uncrossing his arms and placing a hand on Luke's shoulder again, ‘I will arrange something so you can continue to maintain your connections, but for now… come with me.’ With that, he gently pushed Luke back into a walking pace as they headed out of the elevator station and into the railcar station, where a railcar was already awaiting them.</p>
<p>‘As I said,’ Vader rumbled quietly while the doors slid closed behind them, the railcar coming to life with a jolt as it began to hurtle along the tracks, ‘We caught your breach of the communications blockade this time, and subsequently, the return message sent by your family as well.’ He squeezed Luke shoulder softly, and the warmth from earlier wrapped around him once more. ‘They were incredibly concerned about you, and inquired after your wellbeing.’</p>
<p>Luke swallowed as he realized he’d never gotten any message back from his Aunt and Uncle after he’d notified them of the loss of his arm. Everything had just been so… hectic that it had completely slipped his mind. ‘What… did you say to them?’ he asked quietly as he sat down in one of the synthleather seats, thinking of what his Aunt and Uncle could have possibly felt knowing that he’d lost a limb like this.</p>
<p>‘…I told them that you would inform them of that yourself,’ Vader admitted quietly.</p>
<p>Luke's eyes snapped up, wide and open as they processed Vader's statement. ‘What?’ he asked, voice small as a bit of hope flared to life at those words.</p>
<p>‘I told them that you would tell them yourself, little star,’ Vader repeated, demeanor visibly softening as a sense of comfort carefully brushed up against him. ‘It is… not standard regulation, admittedly,’ his Home continued quietly, ‘But neither are your circumstances.’ He sighed lightly while rubbing a comforting thumb along Luke's shoulder, and he lightly leaned into the touch. ‘There are barely any regulations concerning what to do when an Officer and Engineer of your rank is targeted by a conspiracy in this manner. None, in fact. And even less so when it comes to matters involving family.’</p>
<p>Luke's eyes went even wider as his mind began to conjure up images of what that might mean while Vader continued his explanation.</p>
<p>‘Therefore, as advised by Medic Pelli and Medic Valent who are in agreement that it would do you good, I made the executive decision to allow for a brief moment of direct communication with one’s family when possible. Both in your case, and should it occur, in any future cases where applicable,’ Vader explained, darkness heavy and warm around Luke, filled with care.</p>
<p>Direct communication. ‘Does that mean—?’ Luke asked, cutting himself off halfway through the question, barely daring to believe it.</p>
<p>Vader inclined his head and an incredible sense of something deep and warm and safe briefly pressed in on him. ‘We are entering the Arkanis sector as the next stop in our patrol in only a few minutes time,’ Vader continued softly, ‘And all the necessary arrangements are in place. If you wish, you have a holocall slot scheduled first in line.’</p>
<p>A holocall… he hadn’t thought he would be able to have those with his Aunt and Uncle at any point in time. You needed both ends to have a comm station or unit equipped to take direct calls, and while that in and off itself wasn’t a chore—it was a standard feature, after all—it was a much larger issue the further away you were from the person you wanted to call. On-planet and the immediate atmosphere was the standard range, but anything beyond that required greater and greater power to ensure that the signal transmitted fast enough to actually carry a conversation. The moment you went outside the immediate system you were often just better off sending a message unless at least one party in the conversation could get their hands on a comm station that could transmit and receive its signal through hyperspace. You only needed one comm station to be able to open up a hyperspace link, but that kind of station would have to be able to be able to pull on a massive power supply to do the work of two.</p>
<p>And <em>those</em> kinds of stations were only available to either the rich, criminal, or military.</p>
<p>Apparently, he now qualified as the latter. Or rather, Vader qualified and had decide to use that for Luke's benefit.</p>
<p>‘Little one?’ Vader asked hesitantly, and Luke abruptly realized that he’d been quite for too long, ‘Are you… alright?’</p>
<p>Luke nodded, and abruptly realized with a sniff that his eyes were stinging with tears. He would get to talk to his <em>family.</em> ‘Yeah,’ he said, wiping his sleeve at his eyes, ‘Yeah, I’m fine, I just—’ He just what? He could hardly summon up the words if he tried, and none of them seemed adequate anyways so…</p>
<p>He abruptly stood up and, before he could think any better of it, wrapped his arms around Vader's torso in a fierce hug, burying his face into Vader's chest plate while the man made a startled noise, surprise and shock blooming all around them as Luke held on.</p>
<p>‘Thank you,’ he whispered into the chest plate, heart feeling like it had been poured full of something thick and molten. He would get to talk to his family, and Vader was reason.</p>
<p>A soft sound emanated from the vocoder, and the surprise and shock smoothed out into something deep and dark and safe and warm as Vader wrapped his arms around Luke in a mutual embrace, and he felt the hard, flat surface of something coming to rest on the top of his head. Smiling, he tucked his own head further under Vader's chin, hugging the man just a little tighter while trying to be mindful of the control box in his chest.</p>
<p>‘You are very welcome, little star,’ Vader rumbled back, voice like soft thunder so close to Luke's ear and so deeply comforting. ‘Now come, we are nearly there, and your family is waiting.’</p>
<p>Sure enough, the railcar began to slow down, and reluctant though he was, Luke released his Home from his embrace as the car pulled into the station. The doors slid open, and they both walked out, side by side, Luke nearly leaning against Vader in lieu of being able to continue the hug that had been so very comforting.</p>
<p>People gave them a wide berth in the station, and Luke didn’t even bother to wonder why. He knew that people had been more than a little cagey around Vader these last couple of weeks, and when he’d watched the security footage of what was being called “The Massacre,” it wasn’t hard to see why. If everyone was much like Zev or General Veers when it came to killing, he didn’t doubt that it was a nasty sight to see, and admittedly, he’d been morbidly fascinated by what Vader had managed to do to Ozzel, even as his instincts had been yowling that it was all taking <em>too damn long</em> to finish the job.</p>
<p>He hardly had the room to talk though. Aside from Ozzel, he’d done worse to slavers when the situation had called for it. Sometimes you really didn’t have any other choice than to bury a snatcher squad hot on your trail in a landslide, a tar pit, or lead them right to the edge of your local greater krayt’s nest, and that was that.</p>
<p>But still, that wariness had begun to dissipate ever since the party, and even though people were still giving them plenty of space, he could see subtle smiles in the throngs of people here and there too as Luke and Vader passed through.</p>
<p>Surprisingly enough, Vader directed him to the private elevator instead of one of the public ones that could lead them to the comm department. Glancing up at Vader with a questioning look, he felt the man softly squeeze his shoulder in reassurance as he glanced down in turn, the panel hiding the elevator already sliding open along with the doors.</p>
<p>‘I assumed you would wish to speak freely to your family,’ Vader murmured as they stepped into the elevator. ‘The comm station in my chambers is unmonitored and better equipped to handle the call than the ones situated in the communications department. In this manner there will be no interference with your conversation and no infringement on your privacy.’</p>
<p>Luke smiled and bumped softly against Vader's side as the elevator took them up to his Home’s chambers. ‘You assumed right,’ he muttered back. ‘Thank you. That means… more to me than you might think.’</p>
<p>Vader hummed lowly as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. ‘I think, little one,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘That I might understand better than you would expect.’</p>
<p>Before Luke could ask what that meant (though, remembering what he knew about Vader's past, he had a pretty good idea), the man had already begun to step out and Luke quickly followed suit.</p>
<p>Walking down the familiar corridors steeped in his Home’s dark and ubiquitous presence, Luke thought with a smile that perhaps out of all the places on the Lady, here it felt the most like he’d stepped outside her protective bounds and was simply treading the starless night outside.</p>
<p>It felt like coming home.</p>
<p>Vader guided him with a gentle hand into his meditation chamber, past the hyperbaric chamber itself, and into the office adjacent to the meditation chamber. Dropping his hand from Luke's shoulder and lengthening his stride as he walked over towards the bureau situated in the middle of the dark, windowless room, Luke looked around while the man fiddled with something on—or in— the desk.</p>
<p>The office was bare and highly utilitarian from what Luke could see, but, oddly enough, and in a way that contrasted with what he had seen from the man’s office on Imperial Center, there appeared to be things on the wall here.</p>
<p>Curiosity piqued and Vader still busy with what Luke could only assume was setting up the holocall, Luke walked over to the odd fixtures on the wall and was surprised to see that they were… holo picture frames. Picture frames that flickered to life the moment Luke approached and—</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Staring in wonder at the holodisplay in front of him, Luke saw his own face looking back, laughing as he attempted to get one of the mouse droids from the GMN to sit still while he modified the little droid’s optic sensors, failing miserably due to the efforts of the mischievous droid. The holo played out to show the mouse droid—who he remembered Leia later Naming Toby—making a break for it and crashing straight into Luke due to the aforementioned optic sensors needing replacing, sending both of them sprawling over the floor.</p>
<p>He remembered that day. Vader had come in to ask him about the tune up for his TIE AD-X1 while Luke had been busy working through another dozen or so mouse droids to give them the upgrades needed to enter the GMN, and this had happened right before the man had announced himself.</p>
<p>Where had this holo come from though?</p>
<p>Walking along the walls, Luke watched as his proximity triggered the other holodisplays to flicker to life, and… all of them were of him. Him and the droids of the GMN. Him and his Corps, both in professional settings and just horsing around. Him and the Troopers, during SUTA project, checking Wick’s armor while he and the man talked, during the various times he’d been invited to hang out with the 501<sup>st</sup>, during the trip to Imperial Center. Him giving various presentations, from the very first improvised one that had started the whole SUTA project madness to the final ones in Imperial Center.</p>
<p>Even ones of him at the party, carried around on the shoulders of Bellow and Creek as he’d greeted all those people and he was struck every time by how it looked so… reverential from an outsider’s perspective. Trailing a finger along the picture frame, Luke caught the flickering of blue from the corner of his eye as the holodisplay directly next to him came to life, displaying a holo of him looking up at the flower rain of the party in wonder, the perspective showing that it was definitely Vader who had taken the shot.</p>
<p>All of them, they were of <em>him.</em></p>
<p>Where had they come from?</p>
<p>‘You are not the only one who knows your way around a comm unit’s camera, little one,’ Vader's voice came from behind him, a lot closer than he had expected and he startled as he whirled around, finding Vader looking at the holodisplays as well. ‘I… hope you do not mind, but recently I have begun taking footage of moments I wish to remember.’ He tilted his mask slightly to glance towards Luke. ‘The ones most dear to me are the ones I choose to display here to… remind me of better times when the world seems too bleak.’</p>
<p>Luke opened and closed his mouth, trying to respond but coming up blank for a while. What to say to that? He chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked at all those little moments of joy, most of them he remembered as having taken place just before Vader had come in or announced himself or otherwise. And—</p>
<p>‘They’re… all of me,’ he whispered softly, wonder in his tone and unable to find any other sensible thing to say.</p>
<p>Vader rumbled out a short laugh, static seeming to tingle through the air. ‘Yes,’ Vader agreed calmly, contently. ‘It is… easy to find the joy in life when you are around, little one.’ A brush of tender warmth pressed up against the edges of Luke's awareness. ‘Very easy indeed.’</p>
<p>Luke looked back towards the holos and remembered those moments. The moments pictured, yes, but also the moments right after, when Luke had spotted Vader and he remembered—</p>
<p>‘Likewise,’ he whispered back, remembering the happiness that had colored his memories whenever Vader had shown up. The safety and comfort. The simple joy of seeing his mentor, his Home, and maybe, someday, if he was quick and clever and lucky enough to manage the Flight of a lifetime, his Father. He smiled. ‘You make it easy as well.’</p>
<p>Luke was hardly even surprised when he felt the air abruptly tangle into a snarl of emotions, even as Vader didn’t say a word. The man clearly had little experience with these kinds of matters, and with every tidbit revealed about his past, Luke was less and less surprised over why. Vader had had a rough life, something which, even if the man hadn’t directly told him so, he still would have realized from the simple fact that he was chainblind. And while he didn’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of it, it was clear that simple, uncomplicated joy was in desperate short supply in his life. A thought that saddened Luke as much as it made him determined to stick close and try to show that there was something more to life than what he’d gotten used to.</p>
<p>So he simply stood there, watching the little moments of joy in the picture frames while Vader sorted out his own emotions. Stood there until he heard a faint chime from behind him that startled both of them out of their musings.</p>
<p>Turning around revealed that the desk with which Vader had been working was now emitting a pulsing blue light from the center-back of its work surface, perfectly in sync with each chime.</p>
<p>‘Ah,’ Vader noted with a hint of triumph in his presence, ‘The connection has established itself.’</p>
<p>Abruptly yanked back to the present and remembering that he was here to talk to his <em>family,</em> Luke's heartrate skyrocketed as a wide smile spread over his face. Barely stopping himself from running over to the desk, he ignored the amused rumblings coming from Vader as he nearly bounced in place.</p>
<p>‘So when does the call start?’ Luke asked, feeling nearly over the Moons at the idea of getting to <em>talk</em> to his Aunt and Uncle again for the first time in <em>months.</em></p>
<p>‘As soon as you take a seat and allow me to make the explanation, little one,’ Vader chided, laughter in every line of his posture. Laughter that only got more prominent as Luke nearly vaulted into the leather chair behind the desk, only to find that it was large enough to nearly swallow his frame whole.</p>
<p><em>Definitely Vader-sized,</em> he thought as he arranged himself in the bureau chair, trying to find a comfortable position in the furniture that was clearly made for a person three times his size. When he was at last arranged in a semi-dignified position in the chair and Vader's shoulders were shaking with laughter, Luke beamed up at the man with an expectant grin.</p>
<p>‘Alright then,’ Vader rumbled, amusement in every tone as he walked over to the spot next to his chair, placing a hand on the backrest as he leaned in to point out a few, discrete buttons in a circular arrangement on the bureau. ‘This is the panel that controls the short-range communications array, which is the one you will be using, little one. The center button is for beginning and ending the call,’ he explained with a brief gesture, before shifting over to those around it. ‘These are for volume control, and the others are for functions such as tracing the call, sending through various file forms, and activating the holodisplay or similarly deactivating it. I ask that you not touch any but the first three,’ he finished, pointing out the remaining controls.</p>
<p>Luke nodded once. ‘Got it,’ he agreed seriously, before glancing between the blinking light and the control panel. ‘So just… press the button and begin the call?’ he asked, feeling giddy and nervous at the same time.</p>
<p>At Vader's nod, he reached out and pressed the center button. The pulsing blue light blinked rapidly thrice and—</p>
<p>The holodisplay came to life in a brilliant blue, his Aunt and Uncle looking back at him in equal parts surprise and joy.</p>
<p>‘Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru!’ Luke cried out in greeting, feeling like his mouth might split in two from how wide he was smiling.</p>
<p>‘Luke,’ Aunt Beru breathed, clasping a hand over her mouth before she and Owen seemed to catch sight of the person standing next to him. ‘And—’ she cut herself off, looking wide-eyed at Vader.</p>
<p>Something that Vader evidently realized as well, as he let his hand slide down from the backrest to Luke's shoulder, squeezing lightly to draw Luke's attention away from the crystal-clear image of his Aunt and Uncle for a moment. ‘I will be meditating in my chamber,’ he informed Luke quietly. ‘Enjoy your time with your family, and come find me when you are done.’ A question that didn’t sound like a question, but Luke had known his Home long enough to catch it anyway.</p>
<p>‘I will,’ Luke responded just as quietly, smiling warmly at the man as Vader nodded back. With that, he watched as Vader swept out of the room, his mantle billowing in his wake. As the door slid shut, he looked back to his Aunt and Uncle, biting his lip to stop from laughing as he saw their stunned faces. ‘So,’ he said, barely keeping himself from laughing, ‘How have you all been?’</p>
<p>‘Luke Skywalker,’ his Aunt said flatly, a hint of danger in her voice and Luke was very, <em>very</em> grateful all of a sudden that he was having this conversation while a couple of lightyears away from home. ‘Was that who I think it was.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ he admitted with a smile, ‘That was Vader. He’s the one I’ve been telling you about in my messages. Apparently, there’s a lot more to him than the news would like to have you believe.’</p>
<p>‘Luke,’ Uncle Owen said with a shaky quality to his voice. ‘Nephew. Are you telling your Aunt and I that the person you Named your Home… was <em>Darth Vader?’</em> At Luke's nod, he rubbed a hand over his face while heaving out a heavy breath. ‘Luke, what have you been <em>doing?</em><em>’</em></p>
<p>‘Hey now,’ he rebuked gently, raising an eyebrow, ‘Who’s been spending nearly every day with him these last few months?’ His Uncle shot him a dark look, and Luke met it evenly. ‘I’m telling you, there’s a lot more to him than they show him to be. Besides, aren’t you the one who told me to never trust what was being sold to me until I see it with my own eyes?’</p>
<p>His Uncle breathed out a heavy breath and Luke braced himself for another argument, but Aunt Beru quickly intervened and placed a hand on his Uncle's arm, shooting him a look that Luke clearly recognized as a warning to keep it civil. The tension retreated as both his Uncle and Luke himself calmed down, the tension retreating back under his Aunt's gaze.</p>
<p><a id="back23" name="back23"></a>A gaze which she turned to Luke with a smile that only wavered slightly around the edges. ‘So. Darth Vader,’ she muttered, breathing deeply as her smile settled into something truly genuine. ‘You always push beyond the possible, don’t you, <em>na krayt’ta?’ </em><a href="#note23"><sup>[23]</sup></a></p>
<p>Luke smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head slightly in embarrassed even as he shrugged his shoulders. ‘It just kinda happened,’ he admitted with a grin, looking up at his Aunt and Uncle and feeling relief when he saw that both their expressions had softened enough that he felt the worry of another argument with his Uncle abate. ‘But he’s… kinder and more patient than you might think. Much more gentle too,’ he admitted as he recalled all those little moments over the last nine months. ‘He’s… taken me under his wing and been teaching me all kinds of things, as well as sticking up for me and keeping me safe.’</p>
<p>‘That… does sound rather different than the news you usually hear about him,’ his Aunt admitted with a smile, tension leaking out of her shoulders as well as those of his Uncle.</p>
<p>His Uncle, sighed deeply with a shake of his head and smiled wryly, even if it didn’t reach his eyes just yet. ‘Looks like you’re leaving us in the dust again, Nephew,’ he noted, gruff voice contradicting the softening in his expression. ‘Care to fill your old Aunt and Uncle in on the adventures you’ve been having? Apparently with the <em>right-hand man of the emperor?’</em></p>
<p>‘And how that resulted in us getting a message telling us that you— that you lost a hand?’ his Aunt added lightly, even as her voice wavered when it landed on his prosthetic right hand.</p>
<p>He blew out a long breath as he pulled a hand through his hair, thinking back to the months’ worth of—admittedly—crazy adventures that more often than not had resulted in even more unexpected situations. ‘How long have you got?’ he asked with a wry smile.</p>
<p>His Aunt and Uncle shared a look that Luke recognized from seeing it all too often when he’d come home all too late, covered in grime and the occasional scratch, and a head full of adventure. Eventually, they both sighed and turned back to him. ‘We have the time,’ Aunt Beru said easily, ‘We arranged with the Darklighters to be allowed to use their comm station, so we’re not on a time limit.’</p>
<p>‘Or watched,’ his Uncle added significantly, and that, more than anything else, made the last tension in Luke's shoulders bleed away.</p>
<p>‘Alright, then get comfortable, ‘cause this is… going to be a long one,’ he admitted with a sheepish smile that made his Aunt laugh brightly.</p>
<p>‘With you it always is, <em>na krayt’ta,’</em> she said with a smile.</p>
<p>‘Tell me about it,’ his Uncle grumbled with a roll of his eyes.</p>
<p>And with that, Luke launched into his story, telling his Aunt and Uncle about his arrival on the Lady, how <em>big</em> everything was there, how he’d feared he would get lost both physically and mentally in the structure, and how Vader had immediately set about making sure he was comfortable and taken care of—much to the relief of his Aunt as she murmured a quick blessing to his mentor. How he’d assigned him tutors and guides and even put in the legwork himself in getting Luke up to speed, giving lessons and advice and allowing Luke to drop by with questions no matter the time of day.</p>
<p>How he’d realized then and there that there was a lot more to the man than the rumors had told him, and how he’d set about finding out more about the man, chipping away at his walls one bit at a time until he could see beyond the mask. How he’d found a whole different man behind the prickly exterior, one who was gentle and kind and more than a little mischievous.</p>
<p>A part at which his Uncle barked out a laugh while Luke groused about the man’s favorite prank of sneaking up on him unnoticed, Luke whining that no, <em>stop laughing,</em> he was supposed to be on <em>his</em> side here!</p>
<p>He told them of the new people he’d met along the way as well, and how, while he had a rough start of it with many of them at first, he managed to win them over with the occasional nudge from Vader to point him in the right direction.</p>
<p>Of his Corps, and how terribly proud he was of them and the fact that they let him lead them, something his Aunt and Uncle had shared a smile over that Luke didn’t quite understand. Of the Troopers and the Pilots and the Crewmates and all the different types of droids. He told of them of Captain Piett, now promoted to Admiral. Of General Veers, and Zev, and how he would be joining him soon enough as Luke helped run him though his own Flight.</p>
<p>He definitely didn’t miss the proud look he got from his Aunt as he explained that bit. Or the exasperated one from his Uncle as he looked towards the sky to ask the Suns for strength.</p>
<p>He recounted them the whole ordeal of the SUTA project, how much work had gone into it, how much the people had helped him, how supportive everyone, especially Vader, had been, and how, in the end, he’d managed to pull it off. A story which Aunt muttered a small blessing of the Moons over while his Uncle gruffly told him that he’d done good by the bucketheads, even if they <em>were</em> some of the rudest people he’d ever met.</p>
<p>He followed up with the whole adventure on Imperial Center, agreeing with his Uncle that it was just <em>weird</em> that you could rename a whole planet like that, and telling them all about the gardens and palace and the presentations he’d given. At which point his Aunt interjected and told him that they’d both definitely been made aware of those, watching them at home over the holonet. His Uncle told him that they were both obviously very proud of him and that he’d done a great job of it, but really, did he have to lay it on that thick?</p>
<p>Luke rolled his eyes as he told his Uncle that sometimes you had to dazzle them to get them to go along with your plan, and continued to tell them about the whole party that had come after, and how he’d discovered that one of his long-time online friends was, <em>surprise</em>, the Princess of Alderaan. And he had the holo to prove it.</p>
<p>Proudly showing off the picture of Zev, Leia, and him at the gala, he laughed as his Aunt gushed over how terribly handsome and beautiful they all looked in their formal dress while his Uncle rubbed the bridge of his nose while muttering about how <em>of course</em> it was a Princess. Of course.</p>
<p>‘You really couldn’t have picked at least <em>one</em> more down-to-earth type to shoot the breeze with?’ his Uncle grumbled, even as Luke knew that he didn’t mean it.</p>
<p>‘Well, since <em>they</em> picked <em>me,</em> Uncle, not really,’ he pointed out with a grin. ‘Especially Leia. I don’t think anything in world and the stars beyond could get her to do anything she didn’t want to.’</p>
<p>‘She sounds brilliant,’ his Aunt opinioned happily, that gleam in her eyes that his Uncle had always quietly told him was just like that of Grandmother Shmi. ‘A proper young lady who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it.’</p>
<p>‘Considering she threatened General Veers without so many words and he took it as a threat between friends?’ Luke noted with some amusement, his Aunt brightening up even further, ‘Definitely.’</p>
<p>‘Alright,’ his Uncle said, rubbing his chin, ‘She does sound like the decent sort. But there’s been more than one rumor that you met more of the royal types that evening. Any of them that you wanna tell us about?’</p>
<p>Luke mood abruptly soured and he nodded as he squared his jaw. ‘Yes,’ he said darkly as he remembered one of the other <em>royals</em> he’d had some interaction with that day. <em>‘One.’</em></p>
<p>His Uncle raised his eyebrows even as something hardened in his eyes. ‘Now that doesn’t sound like your usual cheer, Luke,’ he noted calmly. ‘Who was it?’</p>
<p>‘And what did they do?’ his Aunt added with a similar hard look in her eyes, both of them sensing the shift in him.</p>
<p>Luke sighed as he prepared to give the whole story. ‘So, you know how there was some time between the first and last presentation I gave?’ he began cautiously, waiting until they’d both nodded their affirmation. ‘Well, in that time I got summoned by the emperor.’</p>
<p>His Aunt made a surprised noise while his Uncle's face hardened even further. ‘You didn’t say you’d talked to the recluse himself,’ he noted bluntly, ‘And judging by that look you’ve got, Nephew, he was none too pleasant either.’</p>
<p>‘What went wrong?’ his Aunt asked quickly, a roughened kind of edge in her voice that every Child would recognize, and one that Luke was more than familiar with from when Flights crashed or nearly did and he came home with more than his usual share of scrapes.</p>
<p>‘Nothing,’ Luke answered bluntly, ‘Everything went <em>exactly</em> as planned by either of us, and that’s precisely the problem.’ He growled under his breath as he remembered the Red Guard coming to sweep him away with barely a word, and how, with one order, the emperor had managed to put a desperate fear into Vader's heart that Luke hadn’t seen truly leave until <em>days</em> later. ‘He sent a fucking <em>snatcher squad</em> to “retrieve” me for his summons,’ he snarled out, his Aunt going pale in the face as she abruptly sank her nails into his Uncle's arm, his Uncle not even noticing as he swore under his breath.</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ he agreed grimly, ‘And he wasn’t even particularly subtle about it. They would’ve just kidnapped me without anyone knowing or accompanying me if it hadn’t been for Vader thinking on his feet and the Troopers refusing to leave me.’</p>
<p>‘A right blessing of sense from the bucketheads then,’ his Uncle growled out. ‘And blessings on your Home as well, for keeping his head.’</p>
<p>‘He barely did,’ Luke noted with a grim set to his jaw and sadness in his voice. ‘For good reason too. While talking with the emperor, who is a lying <em>creep</em> of sleemo by the way, I— I realized that the resemblance of the methods he used wasn’t just a coincidence,’ he whispered out, pulling a hand through his hair as he recalled the kneeling Red Guard, Vader's fear, the man having been a Child and still calling the man <em>“Master.”</em></p>
<p>‘He’s a Master,’ his Aunt whispered out, her conviction bleeding through in her voice beyond a shadow of doubt. ‘He’s a Master, oh <em>Luke.’</em></p>
<p>Luke nodded miserably. ‘Not just <em>a</em> Master,’ he admitted quietly. ‘He’s <em>Vader's</em> Master.’</p>
<p>His Uncle swore loudly while his Aunt clenched her jaw, eyes wide and filled with a fear that spoke of memories and experience. ‘Darth Vader is— <em>Your Home</em> is—?’ she whispered out, unable to bring her to finish the sentence.</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Luke answered miserably as he thought back to his mentor’s <em>fear</em> of the emperor. ‘He is.’ Luke sighed deeply as he leant back against backrest that was at least three times to large for him. ‘Suns, he really is, even if he doesn’t see it himself.’</p>
<p>‘What do you mean?’ his Uncle asked urgently, but his Aunt was already shaking her head in horror.</p>
<p>‘Luke, <em>na krayt’ta,</em> are you—? <em>No,’</em> she whispered miserably, making the sign of Laa, the youngest Moon and her patron, over her heart, ‘Please tell me—’</p>
<p>‘Chainblind,’ Luke muttered miserably. ‘And some part of him knows it too.’ He sighed deeply. ‘The part of him that was once of the Desert knows it too, <em>and before you say anything—’</em> he spoke out in a hard tone as his Aunt and Uncle drew in sharp breaths, ‘He invoked his Right, and renounced his Name, so no, I don’t know much more and what I do know is under a Vow of silence.’</p>
<p>The room was silent for a while, just the electric hum of the holodisplay and the deep breaths of Luke as he went over all the times where he <em>knew</em> he’d seen something in Vader, something that knew that none of this was right, before it had been chased out of view again.</p>
<p>Eventually, his Aunt spoke up again. ‘Luke, are you— are you <em>sure</em> about— about him?’ she asked quietly, and he could hear that same war within her that he had felt when he’d first looked at Vader's gift of a shiranaa tree. That war between belief and disbelief and knowing which you’d rather have proven right.</p>
<p>But Aunt Beru wouldn’t be getting the result she wanted like Luke did.</p>
<p>With a sigh, he sat back up and began rolling up the right sleeve of his overalls, exposing his prosthesis fully and showing off the intricate line work on the arm. ‘See this?’ he asked as he held up his prosthesis for his Aunt and Uncle to see, dispassionately noting the flinch in them as they were confronted with the reality that Luke really had lost a limb. He let them look at it for a moment longer as he traced a finger over the lines of the Storm, the Runner’s wings, the Star Paths, and the Suns and Moons.</p>
<p>‘The engravings aren’t my design,’ he told them quietly. ‘In fact, I had no kind of input in them whatsoever beyond the fact that Vader knew my background as a runner. Knowledge which I entrusted to him after we’d had more than one discussion on the topic.’ Just two, but they didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway. He <em>knew</em> he could trust Vader. ‘Vader designed this, of his own volition, and without any kind of input from me,’ he explained gravely as his Aunt and Uncle looked at the prosthesis as if spellbound. ‘How would you explain this, if not for the fact that once, long ago, he was one of us?’</p>
<p>They were quiet for a little while longer, but eventually, Aunt Beru nodded slightly, her eyes shining as she looked at the prosthesis. ‘He was a Sibling,’ she whispered, voice rough. ‘And so far from home.’</p>
<p>‘Suns’ Fire, the poor bastard,’ Uncle Owen muttered as he rubbed a hand over his face, looking twice his age for a moment as he glanced back up at Luke's arm.</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Luke agreed quietly. ‘Yeah, I can agree with all of that,’ he said as he lapsed into silence for a moment, running his right hand through his hair, the strands feeling odd against his sensors.</p>
<p>A moment that was broken when Aunt Beru made an odd choking noise, and looking at her, Luke saw her staring at the floor, wide-eyed and pale, tears still in her eyes as he clamped a hand over her mouth.</p>
<p>‘Auntie?’ he asked quietly.</p>
<p>‘You’re going to run his Flight,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper and rough with tears, ‘Aren’t you?’</p>
<p>He swallowed as he nodded once. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted, ‘I am.’</p>
<p><em>‘Absolutely not,’</em> his Uncle immediately interjected, hard and uncompromising.</p>
<p>‘Owen…’ Aunt Beru tried, but his Uncle shook his head hard as he glared at Luke.</p>
<p>‘No, I forbid it,’ he repeated harshly, jabbing a finger in Luke's direction. ‘You are <em>not</em> running this Flight,’ he hissed, ‘Under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to.’</p>
<p>Luke looked his Uncle in the eyes and… paused for a moment. Nine months ago, this would have been enough to, if not stop him, at least lead to a long, bitter argument that drew out deep into the night. It would have soured Luke's whole mood and left him bitterly wondering why his Uncle seemed intent on opposing him at every turn.</p>
<p>But now?</p>
<p>He sighed deeply as he straightened up in the chair at least three times too large for him, and felt like there was probably no better visual to show how deep he was into a situation far too large for him, but that he would have to manage anyway. Looking his Uncle in the eye, Luke felt… calm. Calm and perhaps a little regretful for what he was about to say.</p>
<p>‘Unfortunately, Uncle Owen,’ he told the man who had raised him evenly, meeting the furious gaze head on, ‘I’m afraid you’re in no position to stop me.’</p>
<p>His Uncle growled, narrowing his eyes. ‘What.’</p>
<p>‘Owen, enough,’ Aunt Beru tried again, shaking his arm, ‘He’s right—’</p>
<p><em>‘No,’</em> Uncle Owen denied, shaking off her grip and leaning closer to the camera of the holodisplay while Luke remained perfectly still, something brewing under the surface of his skin. ‘You are <em>not</em> running this Flight, young man, <em>do you understand me?</em> No more backtalk! No more attitude! <em>You are not doing it and—' </em></p>
<p><em>‘Uncle Owen,’</em> Luke interrupted, his voice carrying a hard authority that made even the most rusted of gearheads sit up and pay attention, his Uncle no different. ‘You are <em>not</em> my keeper.’</p>
<p>His Uncle flinched backwards as if slapped at those words and his Aunt gave him a reproachful look. <em>‘Luke,’</em> she whispered, horrified, but did not refute him when Luke shot her a look asking her if he was wrong.</p>
<p>He sighed as he looked his equally horrified Uncle in the eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle,’ he murmured sincerely, ‘But it’s the truth. You do not own me, and I am no longer a kid you can expect to simply obey. And as much as I wish that I didn’t, I… I have to do this. I have to. And if you won’t agree, then I’m sorry, but I can’t let you stop me.’ He breathed out a short breath as he squared his shoulders and held his chin high. ‘I can’t. Not on this.’</p>
<p>The room lapsed into silence again as Uncle Owen held his gaze, stubborn as a bull bantha, but Luke would <em>not</em> give in. Not here. Not where it <em>mattered.</em></p>
<p>Something that his Uncle evidently also realized as he swallowed heavily and sighed, his head dropping down into his hands as he leant heavily on his elbows, suddenly looking so very, very old.</p>
<p>‘Uncle?’ he asked cautiously, the part of him that was still a kid, looking up to his Uncle as he showed him how to hold and shoot a rifle terrified that he might have broken something irreparable, even as he knew that he couldn’t give in on this.</p>
<p>‘Suns,’ his Uncle sighed heavily as he rubbed a hand over his face, his hair sticking up slightly at his fringes from how often he had repeated the gesture so far. ‘I know,’ he said at last. ‘Suns and sand, <em>I know.’</em> He looked up tiredly at Luke, something terribly sad and lost in his eyes. ‘But admittedly, I had hoped you didn’t, Nephew,’ he said quietly, ‘Not yet, at least.’</p>
<p>Luke's shoulder’s slumped as he realized that his Uncle had been playing his bluff and he’d just called it. ‘Uncle…’ he said sadly.</p>
<p>‘This could kill you, Luke,’ his Uncle retorted simply, something bone-tired in his voice. ‘And… and it likely will.’ He heaved out a heavy breath. ‘Suns’ <em>Fire,’</em> he muttered, ‘You’re talking about trying to run the right-hand man of <em>the emperor</em> through a Flight, do you even <em>realize</em> what that would mean?’</p>
<p>‘Don’t mourn me before I’m dead, Uncle,’ he murmured chidingly, a wan smile on his face as the back of his mind whispered at the truth of his Uncle's words. ‘I met the emperor, and have lived with Vader for these last few months. I’d say I have at least a marginally deeper understanding of the situation than you,’ he pointed out, not even having the energy to be sarcastic about it and only coming off as terribly sincere as he was feeling. He closed his eyes as he leant back in the chair.</p>
<p>‘You’re right though,’ he admitted. ‘This… might end up killing me. In fact, if I’m not extremely careful, clever, and lucky, it <em>will</em> kill me.’ He sighed quietly as he cracked open his eyes to look at the saddened but understanding faces of his Aunt and Uncle, even if his Uncle looked especially unhappy at his understanding of the situation.</p>
<p>‘But I have to try,’ he asserted firmly, righting himself again in the chair. ‘Everything that I stand for and that I Vowed says that I should. And…’ he trailed off, unsure of how to explain the rest.</p>
<p>‘…And you can’t leave him there,’ his Aunt spoke up quietly, understanding in her eyes even as some part of her looked like she’d lost Luke already. ‘Can you?’ She smiled weakly when Luke shrugged his shoulders and looked away. ‘You truly are so much like your father,’ she muttered quietly, something unbearably proud and sad in her eyes.</p>
<p>That made him perk up. ‘Yeah?’ he asked just as quietly.</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ she said with a nod. ‘I… only met him once, but in that time he was always rushing off to help someone, even when it was already too late.’ She leaned against Uncle Owen, and glancing over, he saw his Uncle blinking away uncharacteristic tears as he nodded along to his Aunt's words. ‘He would’ve been so proud of you Luke,’ she said with a knowing smile, ‘So very proud.’</p>
<p>Uncle Owen sighed as he rested his head on top of Aunt Beru’s. ‘Too right he would,’ he muttered. ‘He’d have been yelling it from the rooftops.’</p>
<p>Luke pressed his lips together as he nodded, feeling tears sting at his own eyes as well. His father… There was never much talk of him, for all that his Aunt and Uncle respected him a great deal. Aside from the fact that he'd been a navigator on a spice freighter, that he’d left Luke behind on Tatooine with his Aunt and Uncle and dying shortly after, and that he was a Freed man and overall a good person, he knew very little of him. To hear that he was like the man whose specter had always seemed to lurk around every corner of his life… to hear that he would have been <em>proud</em> of who Luke had become…</p>
<p>‘Thank you,’ he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper and broke halfway through. ‘I…’</p>
<p>‘We know, Luke,’ his Aunt reassured him, smiling lightly. ‘And we’re…  so sorry that we’ve never let you know that before, but…’ she trailed off, looking to Owen, who sighed.</p>
<p>‘But you’re <em>so much</em> like your father, Luke,’ he explained quietly. ‘Always haring off on the next adventure. Always the first to volunteer when there’s danger afoot that needs fighting.’ He sighed again, something deeply pained in the sound. ‘Always looking to the stars, not knowing that one day, you might die so very far from home,’ he finished, voice soft with regret.</p>
<p>That… ‘You sound like you knew him well,’ he noted, feeling the impression that his Aunt and Uncle had always given of only knowing his father briefly shake on its foundation.</p>
<p>‘We only met him once,’ his Uncle told him quietly. ‘Too short for any kind of proper family claim, but that time was more than enough. He was a storm of a person, and I don’t think he even always realized just how much he rattled and shook the world around him. Larger than life, in a certain sense.’</p>
<p>‘He also jumped right in when help was needed,’ his Aunt chimed in, eyes far away with memories. ‘No hesitation. No second thoughts.’ She smiled slightly, a twinkle in her eyes. ‘And then he was off again. Off to help someone else. And a few years later, we got you.’</p>
<p>‘Did you see him again?’ Luke asked eagerly.</p>
<p>‘No,’ his Uncle told him with some regret in his tone, and Luke's hope deflated. ‘You were brought to us by a friend of his.’ His Uncle wrinkled his nose. <em>‘Old Ben</em><em>,’</em> he said as if it were a curse word, and his Aunt rolled her eyes at her husband’s distaste for the kooky old hermit, but—</p>
<p>‘Wait,’ Luke said, head spinning with this new information. ‘Wait. Old Ben <em>knew my father?’</em></p>
<p>‘Well enough to be entrusted with you,’ his Aunt said with a light smile. ‘At least, that’s what he told us. He said he’d remembered being told about us sometime in the past, and figured that, since he couldn’t raise you himself, he would entrust you to us.’</p>
<p>His Uncle scoffed. ‘Good thing too,’ he groused. ‘Can you imagine him trying to raise a babe on a diet of snakes and eopie milk?’</p>
<p>‘Oh hush,’ his Aunt scolded his Uncle, ‘He tries his best.’</p>
<p>Luke, meanwhile, felt like his head was swimming with this new information. ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘That I need to have a talk with Ben next time I see him.’</p>
<p>‘Be careful about that,’ his Aunt warned him sternly, ‘We only asked him a couple of times about your father since every time he nearly burst into tears and looked like he aged ten years on the spot. He might tell you something, but if he asks you to back off, you <em>will,</em> young man, you hear me?’</p>
<p>He nodded rapidly, and made a mental note to brace himself if Old Ben actually got talking. Whatever could upset a crazy hermit wizard was likely not going to be too good for his mental health.</p>
<p>‘It’ll probably be a long time coming anyway,’ he noted idly, before the reality of the situation sunk in again. ‘If it comes at all.’ He had to remember that there was no guarantee for success here. None at all.</p>
<p>His Aunt and Uncle's demeanor sobered up alongside his own as they remembered the context in which this was being discussed. ‘Yes,’ his Aunt agreed with a faint smile that he could tell she didn’t feel. ‘If it comes at all.’ She heaved a shuddering breath and looked towards Uncle Owen, a silent conversation taking place that Luke couldn’t hope to unravel.</p>
<p>Whatever was discussed, it ended with both of them close to tears as Uncle Owen sighed deeply, nodding resignedly. Gripping each other’s hand, they looked back at Luke, who straightened up in anticipation of the verdict about to be delivered.</p>
<p>‘You’re sure about this?’ Uncle Owen asked him seriously, voice rough and seemingly on the edge of breaking. ‘You know the risks of— of running this Flight in particular and you’re sure?’</p>
<p>Luke nodded firmly. ‘Yes.’</p>
<p>‘And there’s nothing we can say to ask you to <em>please</em> not risk yourself like this?’ he tried, an edge of desperation to his Uncle's voice that yanked at Luke's heart but that made him square his jaw all the same.</p>
<p>‘You know the Vows of a Runner as well as I do, Uncle,’ he pointed out gently. ‘This is what I chose for my life, what I Vowed to the Storm, and there is no turning back now.’ And even if he could… that <em>fear</em> whenever Vader had been confronted with his Master… ‘Especially not now,’ he admitted quietly.</p>
<p>His Uncle heaved a shuddering breath and nodded, his Aunt gripping his hand in quiet support as she smiled, first at him, and then at Luke. <em>‘Then you have our blessing, na krayt’ta,’</em> she Vowed quietly, the tongue of Karilaa trilling through the room with something ancient on its heels. <em>‘Blessing of the Storm, may the Moons guide your path and the Desert hide your tracks.’</em></p>
<p>‘Remind the poor bastard of what it means to have Freedom in your blood,’ his Uncle instructed him with a shaky grin that was <em>real</em> nonetheless. ‘And bring him <em>home.’</em></p>
<p>Luke grinned back, relief and elation coursing through him as he nodded, nearly beaming. ‘I will. I promise, I <em>will.’</em> It wasn’t a Vow, nothing that would bind his very soul to his word, but it was a promise nonetheless, and his word was on it. He wouldn’t fail here. Not as long as he had breath in his lungs and a beat in his heart.</p>
<p>‘We know you will,’ his Aunt said, smiling a smile that made the lines around her eyes crinkle up, ‘And we couldn’t be prouder of you.’</p>
<p>‘But be careful, okay?’ Uncle Owen said while wrapping his arm just a little further around his Aunt. ‘We trust that you know what you’re doing but… it’s lonely out there for a runner without your family or Siblings at your back.’</p>
<p>Luke laughed softly and dipped his head in a half shrug, half nod. ‘I will, Uncle,’ he agreed, ‘But if you think I’m alone out here, I haven’t been telling the stories right.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, let your Uncle worry,’ Aunt Beru chided with a grin, ‘You know he’d be lost otherwise. Now, on to the more practical things. Do you have a network out there? Something to stand you by?’</p>
<p>‘Of a sort,’ Luke admitted as he shifted gears into the more practical side of it all, the one that held no room for fear or sentimentality. ‘They’re no runners or Children, but they do <em>care.</em> And even if they don’t have much room to work with, there are a <em>lot</em> more of them than there are on Tatooine. I know for a fact that a good part of them are willing to work with and defend me.’</p>
<p>His Aunt hummed thoughtfully as she parsed that information. ‘How many souls are we talking about here, dozens, more?’</p>
<p>Luke barely stifled a cackle as he remembered the festival from a few days ago. ‘Try several hundred thousand,’ he corrected with a smirk, laughing when his Uncle seemingly choked on nothing and his Aunt's face went slack with shock. Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.</p>
<p>‘Very funny, <em>na krayt’ta,’</em> she deadpanned as she gave him a <em>look</em> that Luke knew all too well from his youth and when he’d run his mouth too far even for her taste. It felt good to be able to defend himself with reality stranger than fiction in this case.</p>
<p>‘I’m serious as a heat stroke,’ he told them through his laughter, pulling out his datapad to find the pictures Slice had taken it upon himself to send to him. Selecting the one showing him being carried on Bellow and Creek’s shoulders with a true <em>sea</em> of people around him, all reaching out to him, he flipped the pad over and showed the picture to his Aunt and Uncle. ‘See?’ he said, pointing to the small figure in the middle of a crowd of outstretched arms. ‘That’s me. This was during the surprise party they threw for me a few days ago, to welcome me back to the daily life on the Lady. The people wanted to greet me personally, so Bellow and Creek took it upon themselves to carry me around like that to make it easier.’</p>
<p><a id="back24" name="back24"></a>‘Well I’ll be damned,’ his Uncle said as he rubbed his chin, looking at the massive crowd of people gathered around moving and pulsing like a murmuration of keshtrells <a href="#note24"><sup>[24]</sup></a> in the evening.</p>
<p>‘And you’re sure that they would help you, and that they’re not just going along with the crowd?’ his Aunt asked, a hint of wonder in her voice as she looked at the holo.</p>
<p>‘Considering that the <em>reason</em> I was out of commission was because the higher ups had conspired to kill me and the rest of the crew wasn’t having it?’ Luke noted lightly, ‘I’m pretty sure. They might not be willing to help run the Flight itself when the time comes, but they’ll likely at least be willing to look the other way. That much I trust.’</p>
<p>‘Alright! Back it up!’ Uncle Owen said while looking at his with a bewildered expression. ‘There was a conspiracy of <em>what!?’</em></p>
<p>Luke grinned, and wasn’t that an odd feeling? He could laugh about this now. He could probably still cry about it too if pressed hard enough, but the laugh felt just as real. ‘Yeah, that’s how I lost my arm. Vader killed them though, so it’s all good.’</p>
<p>Aunt Beru looked at him oddly before sighing deeply. ‘Alright, <em>na krayt’ta,</em> from the top, and with all the details, please.’</p>
<p>Luke grinned even wider until he beamed, with excited gestures he launched into the story of sabotage, treason, intrigue, conspiracy, and eventually, of healing and Home too. With all the messy details and video clips lent to him by the clones, the one of The Massacre nearly turning his Uncle green around the gills when they’d come to Ozzel’s execution even as he looked to be approving. His is Aunt, meanwhile looked to be about two seconds away from cheering Vader on.</p>
<p>‘Well,’ his Uncle noted when the video was finished, still looking a bit green in the face, ‘Even if he needs a Flight out of the chains of his Master, he can clearly hold his own in defense of you well enough. You picked a good one to Name your Home, Luke.’</p>
<p>‘He’s decent enough,’ his Aunt agreed happily, ‘But he’s a bit of a showoff as well. It sends a message though, I suppose.’</p>
<p>‘Right?’ Luke said with a grin. ‘I mean, he’s no runner, but then, I don’t think he really <em>needs</em> to be.’</p>
<p>‘You don’t fan your feathers unless you have the teeth to back it up,’ his Uncle agreed with a nod, regaining some color in his face as Luke clicked away from the video. ‘Well then,’ he sighed, smiling shakily, ‘At least when the Flight goes through, he should be able to defend himself without you having to guard him too much.’</p>
<p>Luke smiled sadly at his Uncle as he dipped his head in a nod. ‘Yeah, he should.’</p>
<p>‘Good,’ his Uncle said, nodding, ‘That’s— that’s good. I—’ He cut off, swallowing hard while breathing deeply as his Aunt rubbed her thumb over his forearm while smiling at Luke.</p>
<p>‘We’ll help you in whatever way we can, Luke,’ she promised with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘But… promise your Uncle and I that you will remember the lessons She taught you, okay? That you’ll stay in the cover of your patron. The Storm and Desert <em>know</em> your Name, <em>na krayt’ta,’</em> she whispered with that familiar tone that shifted the sands in the back of his mind as if in agreement. ‘Don’t forget that.’</p>
<p>It wasn’t a Vow he could make, even as he could promise, and they all knew it. Flights were dangerous and unpredictable, and no matter how much you tried, things could go belly up in less than a second at any moment. Even the aid of his patron, the Storm, and the unusually intense attention it and the Desert paid to him could all come up for naught the moment he slipped up even the tiniest bit and didn’t manage to correct his mistake in time. No, a Vow was not something a runner could make on the success of their Flight, and they all knew it.</p>
<p>But he could promise.</p>
<p>And so he did. ‘I will,’ he promised, his word heavy on his tongue as he spoke it into Existence. ‘I promise.’</p>
<p>His Aunt's smile widened and saddened at the same time, an unspoken understanding in the air that didn’t need to be explained. ‘You do your Name proud, Luke,’ she whispered, her smile at last touching her eyes. She laughed with a shudder to her voice and quickly wiped at her eyes. ‘Now then, with that out of the way… is there anything else you want to share with us about this new friend of yours?’ She grinned as Luke's shoulder slumped with his laugh. Of course.</p>
<p>His Uncle grinned as well as he rested his head on top of his Aunt's again. ‘That’s right…’ he muttered, affecting a thoughtful tone and look. ‘Our dearest Nephew forgot to mention that <em>a certain someone</em> goes by the Name of Darth Vader and talked <em>all</em> about him like he was just another coworker.’ He gave Luke a mock-stern look that had him playfully cowering while failing spectacularly to hide a wide grin. ‘Details, Nephew. And skip none.’</p>
<p>‘Alright, alright,’ he gave in, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘What do you want to know?’</p>
<p>‘Well for one thing,’ his Aunt began with mischievous look. ‘What sparked all of this? What’s the story behind this Naming, <em>na krayt’ta?’</em></p>
<p>Luke huffed out a breath and smiled slightly as he remembered what had started this all. ‘A song,’ he admitted. ‘A song and… a tree.’ Luke chuckled as he shook his head. ‘And the fact that Vader can apparently be both nervous and shy.’</p>
<p>Aunt Beru made a delighted cooing noise as leaned against Uncle Owen, resting her head on his shoulder while Luke began telling the story of how Vader had gifted him a whole <em>tree</em> as his first attempt at clarifying to Luke what he meant to him, and, when that failed, had been altogether too shy and nervous to correct Luke when he’d made the wrong assumption in thinking Vader <em>didn’t</em> know what the tree meant on Tatooine. And then, when he’d been distraught, panicking, and miserable, how Vader had sung him to sleep with a Desert song. A lullaby, to be exact. A point in the story at which his Aunt's eyes had already begun to water, and his Uncle was looking to be close behind.</p>
<p>When he’d arrived at the next morning and the conversation they’d had, minus everything that would violate Vader's Right to Secrecy, Aunt Beru had silent tears running along her cheeks as he spoke of Vader's nervous confession to him. By the time he’d reached him hugging the idiot and telling him that he was his Home too, Uncle Owen had closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Aunt Beru’s temple, a small light glittering in the blue light of the holodisplay telling him that he wasn’t much better off than his Aunt.</p>
<p>When he finally finished the story with him falling asleep in Vader's arms again, his Aunt was dabbing at her eyes with her sleeves, giggling softly. ‘Well,’ she said, once she’d regained some of her composure, ‘That’s certainly a very different side than you usually get to hear from the news.’</p>
<p>‘He’s a lot like Uncle Owen that way,’ Luke agreed with a grin, ‘Prickly on the outside and with a gooey soft center.’ His Uncle made an affronted noise, proclaiming slander while he and Aunt Beru laughed. ‘But yeah,’ he said quietly when they’d all calmed down again. ‘That’s the story of how we Named each other Home.’</p>
<p>‘Home…’ Aunt Beru whispered with a far away look for a moment as something seemed to occur to her. ‘Home, and nothing else?’</p>
<p>Both his and Uncle Owen’s eyes widened as they caught what she was implying. ‘That’s right,’ his Uncle muttered. ‘Didn’t you say there was a second meaning to that fancy gift of his? Something about welcoming children into the family on… Naboo, was it?’</p>
<p>Luke averted his eyes as he remembered that particular part of this whole… thing that was still building between him and Vader, rubbing his neck. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted, ‘And… I want to. Want to ask him, that is. And I think he wants to ask me, but…’</p>
<p>‘He’s a shy one,’ his Aunt finished knowingly, ‘Yes, that much is clear. But… you haven’t asked either?’</p>
<p>Luke sighed unhappily, sinking back into the chair as he recalled all the circumstances around this all. ‘I can’t,’ he admitted miserably. ‘Not while he’s still chainblind and in chains. It’s dangerous enough to have even Named him my Home while he’s still in chains.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, Luke,’ she sighed fondly, sadly, her voice heavy with the wisdom of experience and loss. ‘If you feel that it is best, then of course we stand behind you, but <em>na krayt’ta,’</em> she said earnestly, ‘If you want it, if you truly <em>want </em>it…’ She sighed. ‘Some things… they’re worth risking it all for.’ She took Uncle Owen’s hand in her own, smiling quietly. ‘They’re worth it.’</p>
<p>Luke huffed out a soft laugh. ‘I know,’ he murmured, ‘But… this Master—Vader's Master—he’s like nothing you or I have ever seen before, Auntie. He’s dangerous in a seeping, creeping, and insidious way, and something tells me is that all he would need is a single opening to lock a chain around my neck as well.’ He grinned tiredly at her. ‘He’s dangerous like the sandswimmer is, not the sarlacc, though he presents himself as the later.’</p>
<p>‘I see,’ Aunt Beru muttered pensively, before breathing deeply. ‘In that case, it may be best to do as you say, but know that when you are ready, and if he accepts, you can tell him that I would Name him Brother as well.’ She laughed softly. ‘Moons know that he wouldn’t ask himself.’</p>
<p>‘The same goes for me,’ Uncle Owen agreed with a grin. ‘You tell him that once you two get around to coming home again, I’ll be more than happy to Name the man who could Name you Home my Brother.’</p>
<p>Luke beamed bright enough that he thought he probably strained something, but he hardly cared. His family would Name Vader <em>Family.</em> Just like that. And sure, it might yet be a long time before he could finally find himself in the circumstances where he would be able to ask Vader if he could Name him Father but…</p>
<p>But when he did, they would be <em>Family</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>Or at least, if Vader agreed to it, but, well, he remembered these last few weeks. Remembered how Vader had cared for and comforted him. How pleased he’d been with Luke drawing close to him, and how the warmth around the man felt so much like— like <em>love.</em></p>
<p>He remembered it all, and something in him whispered, knew, <em>believed</em> that should he ask… should he ask, Vader wouldn’t say no. At least not to him. He had no idea how willing he would be to be adopted as a Brother by people he’d never met before but the mere fact that the possibility was there was enough to make Luke smile bright.</p>
<p>‘Alright,’ he agreed, giddy and a little breathless. ‘I’ll tell him. When the time comes, I’ll tell him.’</p>
<p>‘Good,’ his Uncle said with a determined grin. ‘If we’re gonna help you with this whole mess of madness, the least we can get out of it is a Brother.’</p>
<p><em>‘Owen,’</em> Aunt Beru scolded. ‘We’d help him regardless.’</p>
<p>‘We would,’ Uncle Owen agreed, ‘But if we’re going to defy the old recluse himself and make off with his prize chained while we’re at it, we may as well expand the family too.’</p>
<p>His Aunt sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she muttered, before turning to Luke. ‘And you,’ she said while pointing a finger at him. ‘You’re going to keep us updated, young man,’ she said sternly. <em>‘With</em> Names, this time,’ she added, Uncle Owen nodding along sternly. ‘I would like to know if you’ve gone and befriended another royal before we have to find out months later again.’</p>
<p>Luke winced, but nodded. ‘Got it.’</p>
<p>Aunt Beru’s expression softened again. ‘Good. And ask us if you need anything. Our reach might be limited, but nothing beats the Desert when it comes to runner’s aid.’</p>
<p>‘That it doesn’t,’ he agreed with a grin, before sobering up a little. ‘Don’t suppose you could send me my kit? I’ve got my knife, but something more would be… appreciated.’</p>
<p>His Aunt and Uncle looked at each other, seemed to come to an agreement, and turned back to him, Aunt Beru smiling wryly. ‘I don’t think it’s the tether and grappling hook you are referring to, right?’ At Luke's telling shrug, she chuckled out a knowing laugh. ‘It might be a while before we figure out how, but… we’ll see what we can do.’</p>
<p>‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely, the mere thought of having his usual kit relaxing something he hadn’t known had tensed up. ‘That would help tremendously—’</p>
<p>Something thudded loudly, and judging by his Aunt and Uncle's reaction, it was on their end as they turned around to face the sound. Someone called something from off-screen, and his Uncle got up to talk to them, his Aunt keeping her eyes on them. After a few moments, his Uncle came back. ‘It seems we have something of a time limit after all,’ his Uncle told them dryly as he took a seat. ‘That was Nalaa asking if we were done yet. Apparently, it’s been over three hours and last sunset is in less than an hour, so if we want to get home before nightfall, we have to be on our way.’</p>
<p>‘Suns, that long?’ his Aunt asked, a bit shocked, Uncle Owen shrugging in a “what can you do” manner. She sighed, and looked back to Luke. ‘I’m sorry, <em>na krayt’ta,</em> but…’</p>
<p>‘Go,’ he told them with a smile. Three hours. That was more than enough. ‘You don’t want to be caught out after dark, and I’ll be fine.’</p>
<p>‘The fact that the last time we saw you, you had an arm more and a Home less would argue otherwise,’ his Uncle retorted as dry as dust.</p>
<p><em>‘Owen,’</em> his Aunt hissed, but Luke could only laugh. It was true enough, after all.</p>
<p>‘But I’m still alive, right?’ he asked with a grin. ‘Still alive, and making plans to stay that way.’</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, his Uncle shrugged a shoulder in reluctant agreement. ‘A point was made, I guess.’ They both held their respective faces for approximately three seconds before bursting out laughing.</p>
<p>His Aunt huffed as she shot them both a narrow look, but before long her mouth was twitching into a smile as well. ‘You two…’ she grumbled good-naturedly, before letting the smile shine through in its entirety as they both calmed down. Uncle Owen sat back down next to her for a moment, and Luke felt their call draw to a close.</p>
<p>‘I will miss you both,’ he told them truthfully, ‘But… I won’t deny that this has been the biggest adventure I’ve ever been on and I… I don’t think I’ll be ready to give it up for a long while yet. Maybe not ever again, really.’</p>
<p>His Aunt and Uncle shared a look before both smiling softly at him, something quietly resigned but peaceful in their eyes. ‘I think… I think we always knew that would be the case,’ Aunt Beru admitted. ‘You’re a Skywalker, <em>na krayt’ta,</em> not meant for the ground. Even if you carry the Desert and Storm with you, the stars have always called to you, and I think that some part of us always knew that the day you answered would be the day you would find your home for good. And it wouldn’t be on the ground.’</p>
<p>‘Always larger than life,’ his Uncle added on with a rare, gentle smile. ‘It’s in your blood. And though we feared what it might mean, we also knew that one day… one day there would be no stopping you as you outgrew our small home and began to long for something more. Began to long for the sky just like your father.’ His grin widened, and Luke flushed as he realized his Uncle was looking at him with <em>pride.</em> ‘And now look at you. <em>Look at you.</em> Only a few months, and you’ve grown <em>so much.</em> The leader of thousands, Home of Darth Vader, and planning to try and run a Flight like no other before. You’ve grown into those wings of yours, Nephew, I’m not surprised that you want to stretch them further.’</p>
<p>‘We’re proud of you, <em>na krayt’ta</em>,’ Aunt Beru whispered with eyes that shone as wet as Luke felt his own grow. ‘So very, very proud.’</p>
<p>‘That we are,’ Uncle Owen agreed as he wrapped an arm around Aunt Beru’s shoulders again. ‘And if you want to keep flying, we’ll stand by you. But please, Nephew,’ he said quietly, ‘Remember that you can always come home.’</p>
<p>‘I will,’ Luke promised, wiping a sleeve over his eyes. ‘Suns, I will.’</p>
<p>‘Then remember one more thing,’ Uncle Owen said, reaching out a hand towards the display, palm turned towards Luke. ‘Remember that no matter what, we love you, Luke.’</p>
<p>‘We love you, <em>na krayt’ta,’</em> Aunt Beru said, copying his Uncle’s gesture. ‘No matter how far you fly, or how much you grow, we will <em>always</em> love you. Remember that.’</p>
<p>Luke carefully placed his hand over their own, and although he touched only light, for a moment he could swear he felt their warmth. ‘I will remember,’ he promised, eyes stinging with tears as he smiled wide enough that his cheeks hurt. ‘And I love you too. Remember that as well. I love you both too.’</p>
<p>‘We will,’ they both promised, and there was no hiding anyone’s tears now, not theirs or Luke's.</p>
<p>‘Remember to write,’ his Aunt told him softly. ‘And remember to take what you want, no matter the risk, if it’s what your heart truly desires.’ It didn’t need to be clarified as to what she was referring.</p>
<p>‘I will,’ Luke told her, tears sliding down his cheeks. ‘And play a song for me, next time the Storm howls?’</p>
<p>‘I will,’ she promised, voice filled with more emotions than Luke could possibly decipher.</p>
<p>‘And remember to keep your allies close,’ his Uncle told him, voice gruff even as his eyes were kind. ‘You’ve found some decent folk out there, so keep them close, you hear me?’</p>
<p>‘I will,’ Luke told him as well, ‘Look out for HK-77 for me?’</p>
<p>His Uncle huffed out a laugh. ‘I will,’ he agreed thickly, ‘The rustbucket’s grown on me anyway.’</p>
<p>There was a thumping on their end again, and Luke knew that it was their signal that his Aunt and Uncle had to leave. ‘I love you both,’ he told them one last time, tears hot on his cheeks even as he smiled. ‘And one day I’ll introduce you to Vader. You’ll love him, trust me.’</p>
<p>Aunt Beru gave him a brilliant smile while Uncle Owen chuckled. ‘I don’t doubt we will,’ he told him earnestly.</p>
<p>‘And we love you too,’ she returned. <em>‘May the Storm give you wings until we speak again,’</em> she murmured to him, the tongue of the Desert sounding so sweet coming from her.</p>
<p><em>‘And may the Desert watch over you both,’</em> he returned, keep his eyes on them even as his Aunt reached to something out of sight until the last things he saw before the call disconnected were their smiles and eyes that looked at his with so much love.</p>
<p>Then a beep sounded, and his hand was only touching air.</p>
<p>Letting his hand slowly drop from where it’d been outstretched, Luke sunk back into the oversized chair as he smiled a bit to himself. His family loved him, a fact which he’d always known, but hearing it again directly from them made something inside him settle and strengthen again. His Aunt and Uncle supported him on his mission to plan a Flight for Vader, and even if the whole galaxy turned against him, he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he would have them in his corner.</p>
<p>It wouldn’t be easy, and frankly speaking, it could still very well kill him. But with his family supporting him, it all seemed a lot less daunting and a lot more like a challenge. He would need to plan, and learn, and brush up on every trick in the book as well as find ways to try and begin training again without drawing too much attention. He would need to turn his very understanding of the Lady and the empire inside out if he was going to get a lay of the land, and even then, he probably still wouldn’t be done.</p>
<p>But now, after talking to his family, and with his Home and hopefully future-family next door as his darkness slowly began to press up to him again with inquisitive little pokes, he could see the paths he would have to take clearer than ever.</p>
<p>Grinning wide, he pushed himself up out of the chair and hit the button to properly end the call, intent on finding Vader again now that he’d regained his footing and foundation, remembering the course ahead.</p>
<p>Walking out towards the door to the meditation chamber, Luke knew it wouldn’t be easy.</p>
<p>But he also knew that for every obstacle, and for every hinderance, there would be a way around. For every locked door, a key. For every confrontation, an answer. He just needed to find them, learn them, and use them.</p>
<p>It wouldn’t be easy, but he remembered now the first lesson the Storm had ever taught him.</p>
<p>In order to learn the difference between falling and flying, you would have to take a leap of faith. In order to find the key to success, you had to know how to fail. In order to walk the line between life and death, you had to accept both.</p>
<p>And in order to run Vader along his Flight?</p>
<p>He would simply have to try.</p>
<p>Smiling bright and with head held high, Luke stepped through the door.</p>
<p>Ready to try.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p><ol>
<li>
<a id="note22" name="note22"></a>[22] <em>Mountain Irrex:</em> An odd-toed ungulate native to the Kashmi Ridge on Tatooine. Four-legged and standing at between one-point-five and two meters high at the shoulder, these oddly reptile-like mammals patrol the vast mountains and cliffs of the northern half of the planet. Herbivorous, they often migrate between the patches of green in the mountain valleys in order to sustain their large bodies. Prized for their wool, milk, shed horns, and ability to carry heavy loads over mountain terrain, these creatures were partially-domesticated by the Children dwelling in the mountains long ago.</li>



<li>While a wild herd of irrex might reach the size of about fifteen to twenty individuals at its largest, herds managed and guided by the Children can reach sizes of up to several hundred. These kinds of herds are often managed by whole clans of people, and they lead a nomadic existence as they travel around the mountains in search of grazing areas for their herds. Agile, fast, and utterly fearless, irrex can be fiercely dangerous when defending themselves or their young, and the whole herd will defend as a single entity whenever possible, driving off even some of the fiercest predators on Tatooine when in large enough numbers, including the ever-fear lesser krayt. Within the culture of the Children, they are a symbol of steadfastness, bravery in the face of danger, and the strength of the many. <sup><a href="#back22">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>



<li>
<a id="note23" name="note23"></a>[23] Na Krayt’ta: translates into “My [fierce] little dragon” in Karilaa, the language of the Children. The word “fierce” is omitted in the nickname due to the root of the word finding itself directly in “krayt,” the word for dragon. It was thus likely considered redundant by the Children, but the proper translation into basic ought to add the word in order to truly capture the spirit. <sup><a href="#back23">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>



<li>
<a id="note24" name="note24"></a>[24] Keshtrell: a small proto-bird that flocks into the thousands, sometimes millions if the food is plentiful. They’re storm-chasers, and where the rains go, the flocks of keshtrells will soon follow. Keeping plenty of their reptilian ancestor’s characteristics, keshtrells are voracious omnivores that will eat nearly anything that will fit into their toothy little beaks while being able to survive on very little water, to the point of sometimes only needing the water they can extract from their food. For any crops, a flock of keshtrells is bad news, but the Children make the best of the situation by hunting the little proto-birds by the hundreds per individual hunt, creating all manner of long-lasting, protein-rich foods from them. It hardly makes a dent into the population though, as keshtrells breed as fast as they are numerous, with chicks hatching and maturing in as little as three weeks to a month. The dancing patterns they make as they flock together have been the inspiration for many an artist. <sup><a href="#back24">[ ▲ ]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And so this is curtain call for How To Design Your Own Prosthesis And Turn The Project Into A Bonding Experience.</p>
<p>Nineteen chapters, eighteen weeks, almost five months in the making, and here we stand at the end of it. If you started this story right alongside me, do you remember the times when I had to reassure you that there truly would be a happy ending at the end of this all? When Luke had just lost his hand and everything seemed far too bleak? </p>
<p>Well? Did I keep my promise? I would say so, but I am merely the writer, so let me know what you think.</p>
<p>As I said in the author's notes a little higher in the chapter, this is not the end. Not by a long shot, which those of you who have seen the index for upcoming stories in the series description will already know. But for those of you who don't: don't worry, a sequel is already in the works, and currently it rests at 50K for just the first four chapters. The story, the adventures, the characters, all will continue soon enough.</p>
<p>But for them to continue, I will first have to write them, which unfortunately means that I now have to announce that the Guides will likely be dormant for a month or two, maybe three, as me and my team frantically work to get the next installment sorted and polished and finished. I know, I'm just as sad and disappointed as you are, but the good news is that the personal circumstances in my life that prevented me from writing have vanished, and I can now fully focus for the next few weeks. </p>
<p>For those of you for who still want to see the next installment in a few months, subscribe to the series, and you will get a notification when the latest installment is posted! And for those of you for who a couple of months with now news is much too long: don't you worry either. On my tumblr (link down below) you'll find many things related to the Guides like lore discussions, meta analysis, <i>incredible</i> fanart and fanworks, and more than a couple of audio files of the gracious people who lent their voices to singing in the various songs of the Guides (all of which are original works by me. Yes, <i>all</i> of them. Even that one.).</p>
<p>You'll also find a link there to the Guides Verse Discord Server, where I hang out daily and chat about my progress, rant about the characters (*shakes fist at plot* Vaderrrr....) and regularly drop lore bombs as well as snippets of what I'm working on (which I've been told are very addictive). You can also meet the Team and find plenty of other souls to discuss with, so come take a look! It's brilliant fun, and it should tide you over until the next installment goes up.</p>
<p>But until I see you again, and for now, I bid you all a warm farewell, and hopefully, soon, a warm welcome back. Until then!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Support me on <a href="https://jackdaw-kraai.tumblr.com/">my tumblr,</a> and drop by for meta discussions, answered questions, fanart, and more! It's honestly a brilliant time, so just come say hi if you have time! :D</p><p>And hey, if this story has got you into a tizzy and you wish you could talk about it with other people just like you, I have some good news! The Guides Verse Discord Server is now online and kicking! Find the link on my tumblr and join up with other people who enjoy this story to talk, theorize, plan your own stories, and just generally go nuts! I'll be happy to see you there!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823513">Star Wars Hamilton drabbles</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Vines/pseuds/Red_Vines">Red_Vines</a>
    </li>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380933">Of Hangar Doors and Sith Lords</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohrwurm/pseuds/Ohrwurm">Ohrwurm</a>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831242">A Mother's Guidance, Child of the Desert</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuurei/pseuds/Yuurei">Yuurei</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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